


My Boy Caleb

by 99BottlesOfBeerOnTheWall



Series: My Friend Filthy - The Collected Works [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: A very Traumatized Caleb Widogast, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Con Artists, Drunken Shenanigans, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Friendship/Love, Gen, Heist, Kleptomania, Magic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Starring: Mama Nott, Suicidal Thoughts, first I write the Shawshank Redemption, now they’re going Bonnie And Clyde, possible triggers, what am I doing with my life...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-28 06:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15042560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/99BottlesOfBeerOnTheWall/pseuds/99BottlesOfBeerOnTheWall
Summary: Nott and Caleb aren’t good at people, but they’re making it work, and it’s good. Good to have a friend, good to have a family. But they’re out in the world, and as easy as it is with each other, it isn’t always with the open road.The world is tough, but they’re making it work. Together.(Also, I’ve changed my update schedule to Sundays and then Wednesdays. Yay)





	1. Want To Learn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus we kick off another installment in the Nott and Caleb alternate backstory!
> 
> This fic is going to have several chapters, and I’ve already got basic drafts written of every chapter, so I’m sure I’ll be able to finish. But the month of July is going to be really busy for me, so there might be some slight delays in publishing time. Please bear with me, and know that I’m doing my upmost to stay on time. 
> 
> Onward chugs the Pain Train, and I hope you Babes enjoy.

Caleb did strange things at night. After the chaos of the day, the long travels, he had his own little ritual. Nott had her rituals too of course: building up a fire, scavenging for good things to eat, brushing through Caleb’s hair, and then scratching herself three times before she went to sleep. But Caleb’s routine was a little different. 

He didn’t like helping her with the fire except to light it with his magic, he didn’t eat until he had something already in his hands that Nott remembered to put there, and he always submitted readily to her personal attentions on his tousled mane. But he invariably had one fixation, and no matter what else he did, he always followed that one habit before bed. 

So when Caleb shrugged off his coat, and settled down on top of it, spreading out his book on his knees, Nott wasn’t surprised. He did it every night before bed. It was the one thing that Caleb did completely on his own, and without any sign of his usual indifference. He was apathetic about most things, but this always had the full intensity of his persona, that so often lay dormant. 

Which was why Nott always avidly watched him. If it was important to Caleb, naturally she found it worthy of attention too. Though she didn’t really understand what he was doing most of the time. 

He hunched over the book as he settled, like a greedy child hoarding their treasure away from others, there was no other way to describe it. And once he was settled he went almost completely still, only moving to flip a page or perform some vague gesture with his hand, and his frozen posture was enough to make Nott’s back hurt. This time was different however. As soon as Caleb sat down, Nott could tell he was more fixated than usual. He started doodling little symbols and patterns in the book, scribbling notes in the margins, but it never satisfied him, and after struggling for a while he would growl and cross out his current effort. 

Nott watched him out of the corner of her eye, keeping a concerned watch on her charge. She’d caught a rabbit to eat, and rigged a setup to cook it, but the salivating smell didn’t bother Caleb at all. He was practically glowering at his book, as if he wanted to rip it up and eat it. Again he crossed out a passage, and this time it was savage, a sharp back forth back and forth movement that looked deep enough to rip the paper he was writing on. With a drained exhausted groan, Caleb shoved his face into his hands, gripping frustrated fingers into his hair. 

Awkwardly Nott flipped a piece of cooked rabbit onto a flattish rock, in the absence of possessing an actual plate, and sidled up to offer it to Caleb. He appeared to be pulling his hair, and didn’t notice. 

“I—I made somethin’...” Nott hinted clumsily. “It’s yummy, I-I mean I think it is. I’m not a very good, ya know, cook, or...whatever.”

Wearily Caleb lifted his head, and stared at the smoking rabbit draped over a rock, mechanically reaching out to take it. But he didn’t eat, and looked back down at the book in his lap, absently holding the rock plate in one hand. Clearly his mind was still in his book, even if his body accepted the food. 

“Whatcha...whatcha tryin’ ta do there...” Nott asked, bending over to get a look at the drawings. 

There were several of them, scrawled in no particular order across the paper, and all crossed out. Most of them looked like fancy squares, with circles at every corner, and lots of intersecting lines. A few resembled triangles. And one shoved in the margins of the paper looked like a long diamond shape, with a line through the middle. 

“They are...arcane drawings...” Caleb said vacantly, beginning to answer as he stared at the paper, then drifting into silence. Before with a sudden start he remembered that he had been in the middle of speaking. “—Ritual Glyphs to be exact.” 

“What are those?” Nott said, eyes widening at the unfamiliar words. 

“The short answer is magic.” Caleb said, his demeanor equally short, once again bending over his book. Just as if he were saying ‘ _go away. I’m busy._ ‘

Apparently the distraction bothered him, which made Nott timid, but she was too curious to stop poking him. And she’d learned in their days traveling together, that irritation from Caleb never truly led to blows. He could be irritable, but he never outright struck her, or allowed his anger to lash out. Curiousity was safe with Caleb. Danger of pain from Caleb wasn’t a fear now, no matter how sour he became. 

“I know it’s magic,” Nott said, with the slightest tinge of exasperation. “I know you can do all that swishy stuff, like with your hands and things, and you make stuff happen...” 

“This is not exactly the same thing...” Caleb conceded hesitantly, still looking longingly at his book, and clearly preferring the absorption to talking with Nott.

“So what is it then?” 

“I could explain it, if you really want,” he said stiffly, “but it is _very_ complicated.”

“I’ll listen!” Nott insisted, standing a little straighter. “You’re really good at all this, and you’re so smart...” 

Caleb sighted and buried his face again, grinding his palms into his eyes. Through the obstruction his voice was muffled, but she heard him laugh, and his voice sounded bitter. “I am the last person you want to teach you Arcana.” The sarcasm in the statement was undeniable, the self loathing it implied. 

“But I...I do want you...” Nott pleaded with shrinking hesitance, growing more timid the longer Caleb brushed her off. “I know you could teach me...” 

Nott picked at her fingers nervously, silently feeling that she shouldn’t have brought the subject up. Then she heard a rustle of fabric, and looked up to find Caleb staring intently at her face. The blue in his eyes was icy, but the red of the fire glittered in them, making his gaze seem both liquid and burning. 

It was startling, and she suddenly felt naked under that stare. Because Caleb, with all his peculiar habits, the insubstantial walls around his body, almost never looked directly at her face. He would fix on her chest, or her forehead, or the air above her shoulders, but his eyes were always fixed somewhere other than her own. His gaze was difficult to find, skittish and avoidant, shy of attention. He never looked at her eyes, unless they were turned somewhere else, like it wasn’t safe to meet her unless she wasn’t aware of it.

Which was why the sudden intent gaze, straight into her eyes, made him seem deadly in earnest out of nowhere.

“You really want to learn the arcane?” He demanded blankly, suddenly straightforward and open. 

“I mean...yeah...sure...if you wanna teach me. All that stuff you do is really cool.” Nott admitted, then a bead of silence fell, in which her nerve weakened, and she backpedaled. “But if you’re too busy, that’s—that’s ok, I was just a little curious. I mean, yeah, you’re right that was a stupid question. I shouldn’t have asked, I’ll just—“ 

Nott didn’t know what she was “just” going to do. However a low chuckle from Caleb stopped her before she could dig herself any deeper, and his hand settled on top of her head. 

“I can tell you if you really want.” He said, the irritation suddenly banished, and gentle patience in its place. “But it will not be as...cool as you think.” 

“I’ll work hard.” Nott tried to reassure, straightening her shoulders and looking firm. 

“ _Ja_ , ok, that’s good. Arcane study is difficult.” 

“I can learn.” 

“I’m sure you can, but that is...not the point...” Caleb said soberly, suddenly earnest and almost agitated. His face looked drawn, almost pained, haunted by a greater meaning in his words than Nott could understand. “You haf to be careful, Nott. This is Power. You understand?” 

She didn’t really, but she nodded anyway.

Caleb accepted it, though a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted that he knew she didn’t really comprehend it as clearly as she claimed. He nodded firmly, allowing his head to sag, as he pulled in a long breath. For a moment he looked bowed under some invisible weight. 

Then he suddenly straightened, and his posture changed completely. He was iron, practiced, every movement sure and steady. Like a long held habit, unused but never forgotten, he became rigidly focused. Sitting straight, legs comfortably folded in a lotus with his hands on his knees, and his eyes still glowing with the firelight at Nott’s back. He looked down at the dirt between them, and his eyes sharpened with intent. 

“Sit.” He commanded with gentle authority, gesturing to the ground in front of him, and Nott quietly took her place. For a moment he softened again, shoulders slouching slightly, as he met her eyes for another fleeting moment of soberness. “I don’t know much, my little friend, but I will teach you what I haf learned.” 

Nott mutely bobbed her head, sobered by Caleb’s businesslike demeanor. Then his shoulders straightened again, and just as suddenly as his eyes had met hers, they darted away again. He fixated on the air above her head, like looking at another face beyond hers, and didn’t meet her gaze again.

“First, we must start simple.” Caleb instructed, half as if these were his own words, half as if he was repeating some other voice he’d heard long ago. “Arcana is based on principles, and principles are based on research, and research has been conducted since the beginning of recorded history. If you understand the principles, any form of arcana, in any school of the arcane can be learned through proper study. But you must first have such a complete understanding of the whole, as to easily remember any part of it, and manipulate the essence of both. In the application of the arcane, Knowledge and Power are one.” 

Nott stared at him blankly. 

It was probably the longest speech she’d ever heard from Caleb’s mouth, and that in itself was enough to startle her. But beyond that, every syllable of the recitation had sounded so complicated and it was all so wordy, that while it obviously had a meaning which Caleb easily understood, Nott couldn’t make head or tail of it. The only impression that rose within her mind, was the vague idea that Caleb sounded really, really smart. Smart, but completely illegible. 

“Right—“ she said after a moment, realizing that the silence was waiting to be filled, “yeah, sure, makes sense—hah ha...” 

“Nott, did you really understand what I said?” Caleb asked gently, his face softening at Nott’s obvious confusion.

“Sure!” Nott said with false brightness, but the pressure of Caleb’s continued silence began to weaken her, and she finally gave in. “It was a little...I didn’t really get much...sorry...” 

“No, no, you are right. We can do better than that.” Caleb said, smiling at her mouth, and reaching out to tweak her nose. “There is no need to be so traditional. This nearly killed me with boredom, when I learned, and it would be silly to make you go through the same thing. The arcane studies are supposed to be interesting.”

“T—thanks...” Nott mumbled, trying not to show how relieved she really was. 

“Of course. Then to be _simple_ we will just call it Magic...(though the Masters would have a fit if they heard me call it that)—“ Caleb broke off to laugh joylessly at some private joke. “And since we are being simple, I was explaining just now, that I want to teach you the basics of Magic. Think about it like this: what if I told you to do math, when you didn’t know how to count. It would be silly _ja_?”

“ _Ja_.” Nott repeated with a wide toothy grin. “It wouldn’t work at all.” 

“Exactly, and magic is the same.” 

“So you’re teachin’ me how to count then.” 

“Just so.” Caleb agreed, before straightening a little into a softer version of his teaching persona, businesslike but not cold. “Now to start at the foundation: do you know what magic _is_?”

“Ummmmm.”

“I’m not going to punish you, any answer will do.” 

“Well then...” Nott chewed her lip for a moment. “When you do those swishy things, and say stuff, that’s you doin’ magic.” 

“Close, that is not a bad guess, little friend.” Caleb agreed, nodding absently. “That is a part of doing magic, but it is not exactly what magic is. Let me explain.” 

Slowly Caleb reached out, gently taking Nott’s hand. With careful silence, he guided it out and molded her fingers, until her flattened palm was hanging in the air between them. Then he released her hand, and brought his own to hover above her palm, just a scant centimeter or two out of reach. 

“Now, when I do this, am I touching you?” 

“No.” 

“My skin isn’t touching yours?”

“No...” she said with a frown, wondering where this was going.

“So how do you know my hand is there?” 

“Well...I guess because I can see it?” 

“But what if you closed your eyes?” Caleb demanded, nodding at her to do so, and she obeyed. “Now without looking, pay attention to your hand.” 

Nott sat with her eyes closed, and for several moments nothing appeared to happen. She kept bracing for Caleb to touch her, but she just sat with her hand hovering out before her, and he never did it. Then as that expectation began to fade away, Nott started to notice something else. A tiny, almost imperceptible wave of tingles that traveled over her hand, then vanished leaving her skin cold. It passed again, passed and returned, lingered in her skin for several seconds, then vanished again. 

“Is my hand over yours right now?” Caleb’s voice asked in her ear, faceless and phantom behind her eyelids. 

“Uhhh, I don’t know?” Nott faltered. 

“Keep thinking,” he commanded gently, “and tell me when you think it is.” 

The tingles passed again, making her skin prickle, and on guard now Nott noticed it immediately. Once again it vanished, returned, vanished, and returned in a slow beat. Then it lingered slightly longer, and Nott took the risk.

“Is..is your hand there right now?” She asked, speaking almost in a whisper she was so subdued by the quiet intensity of the moment.

“ _Ja_.” Caleb said, equally quiet and reverent. “How did you know?”

“Mmmmmmm,” Nott hummed, her face scrunching up as she thought hard. Then the tingle in her palm suddenly vanished, and it clicked in her mind. “You just took your hand away!” 

“I did.” 

“I felt it!” 

The tingle returned across her skin, and Caleb asked, “do you feel something now?” 

“It’s kinda tingly,” Nott clumsily described, “it’s sorta warm I guess, like I’m feeling you a little bit, like the warmth of your skin or something.” 

“Good, then open your eyes.” 

Nott did, and watched as Caleb waved his hand above her palm. And every time a little heated spot of warmth traveled across her palm beneath his hand.

“Magic is a little like that,” Caleb instructed. “It’s like a bigger heat, it doesn’t touch you, it doesn’t have substance, but you can feel it.” 

“Is that why you can make the fire so easy?” Nott inquired, tilting her head as she spoke. “Because magic is all hot and stuff, so it’s easy to do fire?”

“No...No...” Caleb said a little distantly, and his face twisted as if the question were a painful one. “I’m good at most Evocation, but...fire has just...always been easy for me...” 

“Oh.” Nott said stiffly, uncomfortably aware that she’d brought up something Caleb didn’t like. She privately wished she hadn’t.

“But that was not what I meant to say.” Caleb said, gathering himself again with a deep breath, as if his mind was coming back from somewhere else. “I was only trying to show that magic is like heat, because you know it’s there, but you can’t ever touch it. Magic isn’t physical.” 

“But you do, I’ve seen you!” Nott said, happy to jump on the changed subject, since Caleb seemed willing to move on. “You can swish your hands, and make fire, and do all kinds of stuff!” 

“I’m going to explain that.” Caleb pulled his hand away again, “watch.” 

He pointed down at her hand were she was still holding it out, beaconed with a finger, and opened his hand. Following his lead, Nott reached out toward his hand, putting her smaller hand in his open palm. Caleb nodded and squeezed her little fist in his. 

“Now, tell me what I just did.”

“You wanted me to give you my hand?” 

“But how did you know?” 

“You told me to...” Nott said, wondering uncomfortably if she’d done something wrong. 

“How did I tell you? With my words?” 

“No...” 

“I made a gesture?” He asked, and Nott agreed with a nod. “Did I make you do it? Did I force you?”

“No.” 

“And I didn’t touch you.” 

“Yeah...” 

“All I did was move my hand,” Caleb explained carefully, “but that Movement meant something to you, and it made you respond. I didn’t have to touch you, or use my words, because when I moved my hand you understood what I meant. We have a system, where we understand each other without having to touch each other, or force each other to move.” 

“So that’s how you can make magic do stuff, without touching it!” Nott exclaimed, suddenly catching on. 

“Exactly! You understand, that is very smart of you little friend. Magic is just the same!” Caleb crowed, looking delighted for a half moment, before his usual manner returned. “You can move magic, but you need special things to do it.” 

Suddenly Caleb pulled his coat up, revealing the dead leaves and bits of dead plant matter underneath. Pushing this aside, he revealed a small patch of damp earth, dark brown and fragrant with a fresh nature smell. He began to draw lines in the dirt, a row of parallel grooves that looked like a tiny field freshly plowed before planting. Then he began to draw another set, perpendicular to the first, and Nott watched him avidly. Until after several breathless moments he’d produced a crosshatch pattern of squares, and dusted his hands together, careless of the dirt on them. 

“This is very rudimentary, but I want you to look at this grid, and picture a piece of fabric.” Caleb said. Tilting her head thoughtfully to one side, Nott thought that she could sort of see a similarity. “Academics call this a weave. _The_ weave. In fact it is the Weave of reality. The fabric of the universe...so then, if reality is a fabric, what are fabrics made of Nott?” 

“Threads!” Nott said, happy to be sure of her answer.

“Yes, and the universe is just the same. It has millions, billions, of little threads that put it together. All the different things that make trees, and grass, and the sun, and moon, and stars, and air, and everything else. It’s all made up of different things that fit together. Just like a cloth.” 

“Which means one of the threads is magic!” Nott asserted, before blushing dark green at her assumption. 

“ _Ja, ja_! Look at you, you are so good at this!” And he lunged forward to seize the back of her head, and pull her close, so he could lean down and plant a kiss on the top of her head. He was wearing a goofy grin on his face when he pulled away, and it made Nott’s heart squeeze up warm and ticklish, happy to discover another version of Caleb’s too rare smile.

“Then—then I was right?” She stammered, a little dizzy with the combination of Caleb’s sudden enthusiasm, and the rare happenstance of being correct about something. 

“You are exactly right.” Caleb congratulated, a little of his smile still lingering, and Nott practically glowed. 

Regathering himself, Caleb pointed down at one grooved line in the grid, as he continued, “we’ll say that this is magic.” Then he pointed to a parallel line right next to the first one, and said, “we’ll say that this thread is You and Me. Though really it is a little more complicated than that, but it will do for now.” Nott gave a nod, and Caleb nodded back. “Now tell me, can these two threads touch?” 

Looking carefully at the weave, Nott realized with a start that Caleb had drawn the grid so carefully, that none of the vertical lines touched any lines but horizontal ones. Chewing on her lip, and itching to get it right, since that seemed to please Caleb so much, she shook her head. By the definition of his question, even two vertical lines that were right next to each other, would never touch. 

“But the magic thread has all of these other threads that do touch it, see?” He said, pointing to all the horizontal lines that crossed over the vertical magic line. “So if this is a fabric, and you were to pull on one of the cross lines, you could manipulate both our thread and the magic one. Even though they don’t touch.”

“Is that how you do magic then.”

“We do magic just like that.” 

“And you’re goin’ to teach me?” Nott asked breathlessly, looking up at Caleb wide and glassy eyed. Caleb smiled gently.

“ _Ja_ , little friend, I can teach you.” 

An amorphous cloud of all the possibilities rose before Nott’s eyes, as she imagined the vista of all the things she could learn. She and Caleb together. If magic were as powerful as Caleb claimed, they could do anything! They’d be perfectly safe, no need to fear, no need to run, they could just disintegrate anyone in a moment. They could be anyone they wanted, go anywhere they wanted, do anything they wanted. 

_Be_ anyone they wanted...

It ached to realize that. Nott’s heart suddenly seized up with hope, and it was painful let the idea take root. But it was blooming in her brain now, and she couldn’t blot it out. So much sudden euphoric hope of an Escape, she’d imagined was impossible till now. Caleb was so powerful now. 

What could he do when he learned even more?

The crackling sound of the log in the fire collapsing on itself, startled them both before they could get any farther. With a sudden shock Nott realized how dark it had gotten, and how silent nature was, yawning around them open and black. It was really really late. 

“Thank you Caleb,” Nott cried impetuously, leaping forward to catch Caleb around the neck. 

Caught off guard Caleb tumbled backward in a heap, and Nott landed on top of him, where his arms settled comfortably around her. For a long, long moment there was only silence. Each of them lost in their thoughts, as Nott contemplated the Escape she’d imagined, and Caleb shared his musings with the stars. Then Caleb sighed a long, characteristically wheezy sigh, and finally spoke. 

“We should probably sleep Nott.” 

“Ok,” Nott agreed, “that—that sounds fine...” 

Without bothering to move, Caleb reached blindly for his coat, pulling it up to settle over them both like a blanket. Nott couldn’t imagine that Caleb was very comfortable, lying with his back on the cold ground, but it felt to cozy to argue. So she struggled, and shifted, and squeezed, until she was curled up in a ball on Caleb’s torso. 

“I’ll teach you more tomorrow.” Caleb declared, sounding sleep heavy and content. 

“That sounds nice...” Nott rasped happily. Then she scratched herself three times, and went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mannnnnn this chapter really stressed me out.
> 
> I had a lot to chew on in this chapter, because I’ve done my fair share of DMing and I’m familiar with the rules of spellcasting, but the minor details of flavor and description are all open territory. I intended for Magic to feel like a literal science, with it’s own ground work of basic knowledge that must be mastered in the same way you learn the basics of arithmetic, with its own laws that must be obeyed, and its own ancient tradition of study. I was also hoping to make Caleb seem like a man that really is (in this world especially), very well educated. 
> 
> So I maaaaaaybe I captured some of that? I don’t know, I’d love to hear your thoughts either way.


	2. True Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this one! And I believe this particular Con is called the Long Haul.

This really wasn’t a good plan. 

It was risky, difficult, likely to fail, and both of them knew it. It was also possibly the biggest haul they’d tried for yet. Caleb said it was worth the risk, he was a fan of calculated risk, and Nott would follow Caleb into whatever danger he said was worthwhile.

That didn’t change the fact that this whole plan scared the shit out of her.

“Are you—ya know— sure about this Caleb?” Nott fretted for probably the tenth time. The jitters were becoming more than she could stand at this point, nervously chewing on her claws, and practically vibrating in place with her intense trepidation. 

“I think it is a good idea,” Caleb said gently, also for the tenth time, his voice carrying the same soothing determination he had spoken with for the other nine. “And I wouldn’t try it, if I wasn’t.” 

He looked awful already, and even though Nott hadn’t done a thing, it still sent a pang of guilt through her to look at him. Caleb had turned out to be surprisingly knowledgeable about plants and roots, and a few days earlier he’d spent several hours picking berries, that he’d said would be handy for this little escapade. When he juiced them they made a bright red mash, that he’d turned into smears of fake blood that was now worked into his clothes and blotched on his face. Even without any wounds, he looked like a mess. 

Nott hated it: Caleb looking like the world’s biggest dog had made him a chew toy. 

“But what if I—I hurt you or something?” Nott protested anxiously. 

“That is kind of the point, _freund_...” He reminded her, with the same infinite patience. “You’re going to haf to hurt me.” 

“No but I mean like, _really_ hurt you! What if you got seriously injured!” Nott babbled, mind spinning out of control into a detailed list of all the possible disasters. “I—I mean, what if I hit an artery or somethin’?!? You could bleed to death! Or what if it gets infected! And then you’ll die of gangrene or somethin’ awful, and I’ll feel just terrible, and it’s all gonna be my fault! Or we could get shot! Murdered! We could die and—“

“Nott,” Caleb said kindly, crouching down until he was on the same level with her, and he reached out to put his hand on top of her head, his eyes briefly meeting hers. “If you really don’t want to do this, we don’t haf to. We are a team, and you haf just as much say as me, so we can stop if you want.” 

The weight of his hand on her head was just as soothing as usual, heavy, firm and grounding. And the contact of his eyes fully meeting hers, gave comforting earnestness to his words. Nott felt her breath release, and she struggled to uncoil her shoulders, as Caleb’s hand pressed the nerves out of her like squeezing a piece of fruit. Until finally, she was momentarily calm, and she knew what she really thought. 

“We’re a team,” Nott rasped decisively, “I go wherever you go Cay.” 

Caleb took it for the answer it was, and briefly scratched her scalp with his fingers. Then he stiffly rose to his feet again, turning to look back over the view stretched out before them. It was a wide grassy vista, at the moment devoid of life but for themselves, and it would have looked completely wild if it were not for the long winding stretch of wagon track that cut harshly through the center of the sweeping plane. 

They’d spent several careful days choosing this particular stretch of land. Caleb had selected it as their ground because it was the largest stretch of track between farm settlements. This particular bit of roadway was busy, and wagon trains passed all the time, but in this part of the grassy hills civilization was far apart so that there was several days travel between one town and the next village along the roadway.

After that had been some careful scouting, in which Nott had done most of the work, carefully exploring up and down both sides of the track. Which had brought them to this exact moment, sitting in this exact spot, patiently waiting. And thinking over all the preparation that had led up to it, Nott felt her twitches starting again, huffing out another worried sigh and shifting her feet. 

“It’s going to be fine, Nott.” Caleb said, without looking at her, responding to the jitters that began to overcome her once again. 

“Yeah. Yeah! You’re right, you’re right, it’s fine. Fine! He-heh-” Nott said, struggling to smile with a nervous laugh, now bouncing up and down in place. 

Caleb was still looking out over the road, carefully watching with blue eyes narrowed against the wind, but despite his apparent occupation, he was still obviously aware of her. Which was proved as he blindly reached in her direction, and his hand settled on her head again, solid and comforting. Nott mumbled some vague apology in which there were no words, and no real meaning but the sheepish impulse behind it, and reached up for Caleb’s hand on her head. Chewing her lip nervously, she gripped tight around Caleb’s fingers, and became still as she clung to his hand. 

“I’ll take care of you, little friend.” Caleb said, still gazing away almost abstractedly, but clearly earnest in his words. 

“We both take care of each other.” Nott asserted shyly, giving Caleb’s hand a squeeze.

“ _Ja_...” he squeezed back with a tiny quirk of a smile, “that is true, so I know you will not _really_ hurt me.” 

Nott grinned faintly, still chafing despite his comfort. That was part of it. And she did feel better about that part, more sure of herself, bolstered by Caleb’s faith. But the other part...well...Caleb didn’t need to know about that...

“I need a drink...” Nott mumbled, filling the silence.

A moment later Caleb suddenly crouched again, obscuring most of his figure in the grass, and Nott felt her anxiety sharpen. It was time then. They were really going to do this.

“Now, you remember what we talked about? You know what to do?” He said hurriedly, still keeping half an eye out over the grass. 

“I remember.” Nott squeaked.

“And you stay how close?” 

“Within earshot, if possible.” 

“And if this doesn’t work?”

“Someone says Aces, and we run in different directions.” 

“And where do we meet again if that happens?” 

“At the thrown horseshoe, under the hawthorn bush, four miles up the road.”

“ _Ja, gut, gut_.” Caleb was nodding distractedly, his eyes still fixed on the road. Then his keen gaze broke away entirely, and he turned to lock eyes with Nott. The intensity in his blue eyes, was like a thread drawn so tight it was about to snap, the raw force of his wild passion exposed for one half moment. “You know I trust you _ja_? With anything.” 

“Of course I do,” Nott murmured hesitantly, nodding shakily, as a lump of timidity started crawling up her throat. “I trust you too.” 

Caleb only nodded dumbly. For a moment his head drooped, as he pulled in a shuddering breath of preparation. Then his chin came back up, and he commanded firmly, “trash me.”

Nott knew she wouldn’t be able to do it, if she gave herself enough time to think. She would get jittery, and the nerves would take over, and she would either loose focus and precision, or freeze up entirely. So she simply lunged and went for it. 

Snarling as viciously as she could, she gripped one hand into Caleb’s unkempt hair, and the other into his shoulder, as she ripped her teeth into the lapel of his coat. Fabric ripped as she tore back, the taste of Caleb’s customary layer of dirt filling her mouth, and he lurched drunkenly to his feet. She went for the head next, snapping her teeth down just shy of his skin, and ripping her teeth through his hair. Underneath her Caleb was swaying as he moved, stumbling in the direction of the road, although she was too occupied pretending to be feral to really notice which direction they were moving. 

Then with another drunken lurch, as if the world were turning upside down, they both hit dirt as Caleb tripped into the road. Going for the stomach she used all four sets of her claws, hands and feet, to shred apart the clothes protecting Caleb’s midsection. It was hot, and dusty, and Nott was a little dizzy, and still snarling as if she was about to rip Caleb’s throat out. With a vague sense of perception she could hear Caleb shouting for help, and someone else answering, but by this point she was too busy and too focused on not actually hurting Caleb to really care. 

“Nott.” Caleb whispered, and Nott didn’t hear it until he hissed at her sharply, “Nott!” And with a snarl Nott snapped her teeth down inches from his face, hoping that was enough of a signal for him to know that she was listening. “Go for it,” he commanded in response, bringing one hand up to shove her face away as if they were engaged in a desperate struggle. “Make it believable.” 

And here it was at last. The moment that Nott had truly been dreading, as she bared her teeth, and sank the knifelike little points down into Caleb’s hand as he shoved her. A surge of warmth filled her mouth, and Caleb yelled, now truly struggling to get away. 

“Another. Do it again.” He hissed through his teeth, and Nott’s heart broke just a little. 

But she did it anyway. Caleb brought up his other forearm, as if he were trying to ward her off, and even through all the confusion Nott knew what that meant. As she bit down hard into the meat of his arm just below the elbow. And he’d said to be believable, so she tore after biting, dragging her teeth further up his arm like a vice of tiny knives shredding through his coat and down into his skin. 

Caleb screamed, and the pain was definitely real, and even through the act Nott felt tears fill her eyes. She could hear shouts getting closer, running feet, Caleb was bleeding, she was still snarling. And she knew how this looked, with the blood on her face, and shreds of Caleb’s muscle caught in her teeth, with her eyes alight, and Caleb ripped to shreds underneath her. 

She must look like a monster. 

Something hissed past her ear, an arrow thudding into the dirt just by her shoulder, and she realized they were shooting at her. But she’d talked through everything with Caleb, so she just kept going. She was trying for little nips now, cuts and scrapes just deep enough to bleed, anything to make Caleb seem more wounded and battered without really hurting him. 

Then an arrow sank into her shoulder, deep and brutal, driving several inches beneath the skin, and Nott shrieked. She could distantly feel Caleb tense up, brittle with concern though he couldn’t really do anything without giving everything away. But the other humans reached them before then. The sunlight suddenly cut off, as a hulking human shape descended to drag her off of Caleb, and Nott kicked in a show of defiance, though really she would like nothing better then a chance to leave Caleb alone. 

Someone was trying to restrain her, but Nott was writhing like a wild animal, people were shouting, and it was confusion everywhere. Then someone’s hand came close enough to bite, and Nott did, mentally apologizing to whoever cried out in pain. The hand that was holding her dropped her, and Nott immediately dodged away. 

There was still a lot of shouting going on, hands swiped through the air trying to grab her, and boots were mashing everywhere in an attempt to crush her. But Nott simply ignored it all, and went into a flat out sprint for the grass at the edge of the road. Diving in among the ready shelter, she scampered on for a few feet, then crouched down to hide, moving with infinite caution. 

Behind her Caleb’s voice shouted inaudibly, just out of her comprehension in the current chaos, and she paid it no attention. She was too busy running as if her life depended on it, which indeed it very well did. There was time only to flee and hide, to weave and dodge, to vanish out of sight. It was a hair raising tricky business, with boots stomping everywhere, and hands brushing the grass out of the way, constantly forcing her to change directions and redouble her steps. Because, for all the danger Nott didn’t dare run to a safe distance, for fear of loosing Caleb.

Finally, thankfully, the pursuers began to loose energy, slowly becoming convinced that the feral goblin had finally been driven off. And slowly Nott’s adrenaline fueled panic began to lax as the danger passed. The humans slowly returned to the road one by one, and Caleb must surely be mingling by now, probably having his wounds tended to by the fellow humans. 

A rumble of slow moving wagon wheels sounded in the distance, indicating that the caravan had begun to move again, taking Caleb with it. The sound faded bit by bit, until at last Nott was alone. One single solitary figure, lost in the grass, with nothing but the wind and the overcast sky. 

Mechanically she sat. The arrow in her shoulder was throbbing, it took a long tender time to pull it out, and when she did dark blood immediately began to drip down her arm. Just as mechanically she began to bandage it, savagely wrapping her wound until the bleeding stopped. Then she began to attend to the rest of herself, brushing her hair back into place, straightening her clothes, and getting her composure back.

And then, too soon, there was nothing left to do but think about the memories she’d been avoiding. There was still an irony tinge in her mouth, and as she numbly picked her teeth, she came away with red stained on her fingers. Blood, Caleb’s blood, not dark like hers but a bright red, almost fake looking, shade of crimson. 

Then she remembered the way he’d screamed when she ripped his arm. 

She suddenly felt cold, and a little sick, her stomach twisting up around something sharp and painful. Part of her still couldn’t believe she’d actually bitten him, even if he’d asked her to. He was her boy, her’s to protect, hers to nurture, and she’d flown at him like a mad dog. 

Everyone had seen her. 

That realization bloomed in her mind, like realizing her worst nightmare. It was all rushing back, pouring into her mind as one ugly rush of memory. The blood and the heat and horror, the chaos and fear, the ugly truth of it all. She must have looked awful, like a monster, like the hobgoblins you tell your children about. And every single one of those humans had seen her in such a state. 

Even Caleb knew it now, exactly what she was. 

And the memory of the exposure made her choke, something between a sob and a hiccup, crushed by the shame of being so vulnerable. She’d tried so hard, so long, to run away from her own skin, only for it to be all anyone could see. It was ugly, and evil, and she was trapped inside it...

A goblin sitting cross legged on the ground, crying its eyes out in the middle of an empty field, isn’t a sight that most people would believe possible. Surely, goblins can’t cry. And even if one could, no one would feel pity for it. They have the kind of face that doesn’t generally inspire sympathy, it’s teeth being so prominent and frankly off putting; and no natural feeling would sympathize with such a horrifying creature, no matter how small it might be. 

But whether or not anyone would think such a sight possible, there was a goblin doing that very thing. It was sitting in the grass, head tilted up to the heavy clouds overhead promising rain before evening, and making a kind of rain of its own. Though these drops were of a more bitter kind, and if it can believed, here was one little monstrosity that appeared to feel genuine pain. 

***

Nott had lost nearly an hour before she collected herself enough to come back to the road. It was turning from gray cloudy half light to genuine storm darkness, as the clouds overhead thickened. Little eddies of wind were swirling here and there through the grass, following no particular pattern, sometimes rushing with all its strength and sometimes leaving the countryside in a state of breathless stillness. As if all the sky were caught in a state of restless furtiveness before the storm. 

The road stretched away empty in both directions, and Nott turned to follow the path of wagon tracks that had carried Caleb away from her. She hoped he was safe. The caravan they’d been trailing was a large one, which meant it moved slowly, but even with Nott’s stubby legs she knew it would take an effort to catch up with it again. But she had no choice but to follow, Caleb would need her, and she couldn’t dream of leaving him alone longer than she already had. 

Little drops and splatters began to dot the ground as she trotted along the road, leaving dark marks in the dusty surface, and it was soon raining hard. The wet made Nott snarl sullenly, the dampness extremely distasteful, but there wasn’t much hope of shelter and she soldiered on. In this weather the caravan had probably stopped, or so Nott hoped, which would make catching up infinitely easier. 

The road was soon a mire. All the loose dust of the dry baked road quickly turned into creeping mud, and Nott was spattered up to her waist she was so short. In all the confusion of the rain, and her own hurry, she almost missed the signal. Two stones stacked on top of each other, the larger on top of the smaller, forming a tiny precarious tower. Just as Caleb said he would leave it. 

Nott skidded to a stop in the mud, eagerly scampering up to the stones. She hadn’t expected him to leave one so early. But she already missed him, and it had only been an hour, so any sign was better than nothing. Trying not to get her hopes up, more than they already were at least, she carefully lifted the stone. 

The note underneath was nearly dry, sheltered as it had been underneath the rocks. So Nott carefully crouched over it, trying to shield it from the storm, and squinting in the half light to read Caleb’s writing. 

_Thank you little Friend. I know that was hard, I’m sorry._

Nott sniffled, clinging to the note in her hand, as she tried not to cry again. He was so sweet. So kind, so attentive, so dismissive of his own pain that she’d caused him. Even after everything she’d showed him, he still found it in himself to care, to ignore her face. He was so forgiving...

Still holding the note in a crumpled ball to her chest, Nott trudged on. The rain was cold, and it was quickly growing dark in the road, but the tiny scrap of paper was like a talisman. As if she had a warm glowing ember tucked away in her heart, that no cold or loneliness could smother.

It was fully dark by the time Nott finally caught up with the wagon train. All the humans had pulled their carts of the road and arranged them in a semi circle. Dimly burning lamps flickered in the rain, casting patches of yellow light out into the storm darkness, but no fires would catch. The caravan looked damp and miserable, hardly better than Nott felt, and nobody was stirring abroad, which was a sharp disappointment. Nott had been hoping for a glimpse of Caleb. 

She didn’t really have much of a chance of that it seemed. So she picked her way through the rain to the wagon farthest away from the rest, careful to avoid the horses. Animals could sometimes be annoyingly perceptive, where humans, and other bipedal creatures were laughably blind. Underneath the cart it wasn’t much better, since rivulets of water were running over the ground, and everything was damp, but at least it was out of the rain. So she settled down under the wagon to wait out the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is legit what I said out loud to the emptiness of my writing space, when I paused at the chapter break: “Fuck. What the fuck did I just write?!? JESUS!” 
> 
> Yeah...gave myself some major unintentional feels with that Nott Breakdown moment. I was a happy camper, until I stopped to reread over the draft I’d written, and I realized I’d gone into some way darker shit that I meant to in the moment. 
> 
> But angst is what I do, so I kept the draft. Sry.


	3. Speed and Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Long Haul picks up steam!

The fear thrumming through her veins was strong enough to thud in her ears, like a drumbeat she couldn’t escape from. It was _danger, danger, danger_ ever present in her mind, chanting in the back of her thoughts, so loud and so close it was making her shaky. She’d stolen so many things by now, it shouldn’t scare her, but at the moment that didnt’ matter. She was scared anyway. 

Why didn’t she do the smart thing, and choose to save her booze for when she really needed it?

Her hands were shaking so badly she dropped a handful of coins as she was stuffing them into her knapsack. They clattered against the wooden floor of the cart, and Nott froze, heart rising like a lump in her throat. Silence, silence, careful silence, and Nott bent to retrieve the lost coins. The sack was heavy, and Nott had hardly touched anything in the cart yet, plagued by her size. There was far more than she could carry. 

Books. Books, Caleb had said, always grab the books. The only problem was, that there were more than she could carry, all piled up and tied with a leather strap. Which did he want? 

She would have read the titles. If she had the time. She didn’t, and she couldn’t, she was interrupted before then. Because someone had heard the noise. And the only warning Nott had was the rustle of the wagon’s waterproof cover being thrust aside, before she was face to face with a human, looking up the long sharp edge of a blade pointed at her face. 

***

It didn’t start out so disastrous of course. In the beginning there had been no fear, for there had been no danger. In fact, there hadn’t been much for Nott to do but wait and watch over the next two days. Carefully trailing after the caravan like a shadow, and always keeping within earshot. There didn’t appear to be much danger, but Nott was easily spooked and didn’t dare venture far from Caleb, even to eat. She mostly stole from the horses, snacking on the mixed oats and corn the humans gave them to eat. 

After the first miserable rainy night she had several coveted glimpses of Caleb. At times it wasn’t even difficult to see him. The wagon train, though large, was heavy laden with goods to be sold in the central metropolises of the empire. Which meant most of the passengers walked, including Caleb. So it was easy to see him traveling among the others, which was comforting, but itched too because he was so close while still out of reach. 

He appeared to be doing well, and that was a true relief. Nott had grown so protective, it felt dangerous to let him go anywhere without her, as if he would fall into lethargy and starvation the moment she wasn’t around to keep him moving. But he seemed happy, though in truth a little detached, among his fellow humans. His arm was bandaged where she’d bitten him, and she could see him mingling comfortably among the others. 

One of the better glimpses was when she returned his note. They’d agreed on a safe way to do it, and Nott had followed Caleb’s instructions the next morning after the rain. She’d wanted to write a nice note like the one Caleb had given her, but though Nott could write, she had terrible penmanship. So she’d only been able to fit a small part of her thought onto the back of Caleb’s note before she ran out of space. 

_Don’t worry Caleb._

Then she’d had to leave the caravan and go on ahead, until she found a place where she could stack two stones like Caleb had, without being seen. And waiting in the grass a few feet away, she’d seen Caleb retrieve it. He was so smart, of course he noticed the stones, and casually walked to kick the top one away and get the note. He smiled after he read it, and his eyes had swept out over the grass, though he didn’t see her. But the best part was when he quietly tucked the letter away into his coat, deliberately and slowly, aware that somehow Nott must be watching him. 

That had made Nott feel ridiculously happy for hours. 

It had been difficult to communicate after that, and Caleb had already told her they shouldn’t make a habit of it. So watching was all Nott had to content herself with. And watch she certainly did, she watched everything. As if she were Caleb’s second shadow, she’d tailed everything he did, dogging him as constantly as possible. 

Some would have considered it slightly creepy, but Caleb seemed aware of it, and whats more didn’t appear to mind. He always kept to the most visible places in the caravan, trailing at the back, or walking along the side of the road with his hand skimming the grass. A silent, but careful effort to give Nott a clear view of him as much as possible, that Nott greatly appreciated. He was almost always where she could see him. 

So when he left the next note, she watched him do it. He was casual once again, slowly allowing himself to fall a little behind the rest of the humans. Then he suddenly stopped altogether, seized a large flat stone in the ditch at the edge of the road, and after glancing around placed a small slip of paper on one of the rocks, and put the larger stone on top. Then he thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat, and strolled away, leaving the precariously balanced rocks unattended. 

Nott carefully waited until the caravan was out of sight over the next low hill, then scurried out of the grass to seize the precious note. The stone clattered out of the way, and Nott snatched the slip of paper, unfolding it to read. It was more hastily written than the last one, but Nott could still make it out. Though she grew briefly distracted with the satisfaction of merely looking at Caleb’s handwriting, let alone pay any attention to the meaning, and she had to shake herself to get back on track. 

_Tonight. The wagon with the black horses and waterproof canvas looks like our best bet. I know you can do it._

That sent a coil nervous warmth down into the pit of Nott’s stomach. She’d sort of been expecting it all along, after all it had been the plan from the beginning, but it was still intimidating to face the real thing. Just like the start of their plan, when theory became reality, and Nott had to actually bite Caleb for real. It was the same intimidating finality of it now. 

She still couldn’t let the caravan get too far ahead. So Nott crumpled the note up in her hand, and sprinted off through the grass to catch back up. Over the hill the caravan came back into sight, and Nott barreled down the hill after it, until she’d reached the parallel again. Then she had to continue running, so she could find a place further up, to give Caleb a reply. 

Finally she found a spot where she felt safe enough, and crouched down to write her reply. This done she scrounged around for two rocks, stacked them with the note sandwiched in-between, examined her work and stacked the stones in a different way, checked again and again readjusted. She still wasn’t satisfied, but the wagons were getting dangerously close, and she was forced to abandon the stones as they were, and hope that her critical observation was too severe.

She could see the exact moment when Caleb spotted her little stone tower. The way his eyes grew icy, and his gaunt face hardened was unmistakable by now, given how long they’d traveled together. Then it all smoothed away again, and he walked up to her offering, just as casual as he’d been last time. In a moment he’d bent over, brushed the stone aside, and plucked the note from underneath.

It wasn’t a long note. Not much to take in, and he’d read it in a moment, tucking it back away into his coat like the other. She hadn’t written more than one word, and it was easy to glance over in half a second. Just one short agreement, all the confirmation needed

_Tonight._

After that had been a long wait for nightfall. It had felt like days, instead of hours, she was so nervous. Part of her had been irrationally convinced that they would never stop. She could feel it in her bones, that they knew Nott and Caleb were scheming, and were going to ride straight on to the next town without stopping. 

But the horses were the saving grace, and the slow moving train of wagons was a last forced to stop. Even then, it was far too busy to even think about trying anything. The travelers were climbing in and out of the carts, fetching food, both for themselves and the horses, and Nott couldn’t count on being left alone. She couldn’t wait forever, because some of the humans would sleep inside the wagons, and it would be too risky for Nott to try and sneak through that. 

So she was forced to wait. Watching for the moment when most of the humans had settled around a bonfire someone had kindled, but no one had gone to bed yet. Then it was time, and there was no putting it off any longer. 

Nott could see the cart Caleb wanted, it’s waterproof cover hard to miss. It was also placed near the center of the camp, so Nott would have to sneak past nearly every single cart, and become deeply surrounded if she was to have any hope of getting into the cart she wanted. The prospect made her fervently wish that she could have some alcohol, but her flask was dry as a bone, and there was no hope of getting any more. 

Her pessimism blinded her a little however, and when Nott actually began to creep into camp she got on better than she suspected. The humans, thankfully, had harnessed up all the horses to one cart on the other side of the fire, so she didn’t have to worry about spooking animals. And as for hiding from the less sensitive humans, that proved surprisingly easy. Most of the time she was hidden, either in tall grass, or underneath the wagons. 

In this careful way, darting from one point of cover to the next, Nott found it easy to creep all the way to the wagon she wanted. Then the security was over. She had to climb in, and there would be no more shelters. Heart hammering in her chest, Nott jumped up for the highest handhold. For a moment she could only hang, completely exposed, on the back of the cart, before her foot found a place to grip in little claws. And it was foot over foot, hand over hand, up the high back of the cart. Until she reached the top, pushed aside the loose flap that hung over the opening, and tumbled through into the slightly better shelter of the cart. 

Then she took in where she was, and her breath left her in a whoosh. The wagon was stuffed with trinkets. Several expensive looking rugs were rolled up on one side of the cart, silks and fabrics stacked on top of that, clothes and embroidered tapestries on top of that. Crates and boxes were piled high on the other side, books roped in secure bundles, glass jars padded down inside of boxes. Strings of spices were hanging from the ceiling, and even with her limited experience, Nott could tell they were expensive. 

And there at the back of the cart, like a benediction, a beckoning angel: a long black steamer chest that could only be full of money. The three separate padlocks said everything. Shaking from head to foot, both with nervous exposure, and nervous excitement, Nott pulled out her tools and went to work. 

Speed and silence, speed and silence. 

The first lock came, Nott wanted to cheer. The second lock was harder, and Nott was sweating when it finally sprang. The third one fought her, it was nasty and intricate, nearly breaking her tools more than once. It came undone in the end, but it took so long, Nott had to fight the impulse to whimper. This wasn’t speed, and everything depended on speed. 

With a heave she flung back the chest’s lid, greeted by the glitter of coins that nearly dazzled her. That chant in her mind: _speed, silence, danger, danger, danger,_ was the only thing that kept her on track through the shock. This was a treasure trove, Caleb had been right, this was exactly what they wanted. It would be enough to last them for months, with the frugal, half wild, way they lived. 

Nott reached for her knapsack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had trouble deciding how to begin this chapter, because it’s mostly just build up, and I didn’t know how to make it interesting. Then I remembered a gimmic I learned from the first chapter of The Mysterious Benedict Society: when you have the end at the beginning. 
> 
> After that it was smooth sailing, and I hope it’s not too big of a cliffhanger, but that’s just the way it worked out.


	4. Found In Flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Pain Train has been noticeably absent but...
> 
> CHOO CHOO MOTHER FUCKERS it’s here again! Eat your tears, and drink your pain, because Shit hits the fan.

For a moment, Nott thought she was finished. This was it. Everything was over. The human would raise his sword, bring it down on her head, there would be one final moment of blood and heat and hair...and then...whatever came after, if there even was an After...

That’s what Nott thought was going to happen. It wasn’t what he did. 

Because, for once, though Nott hardly guessed it, her goblin skin saved her. She was only one goblin, and this human had never heard of any goblin that traveled alone, so he reflexively glanced back through the opening of the wagon. Maybe he expected to see other monsters ringing him in, maybe he thought there must be some kind of trick to only finding one tiny goblin pillaging their treasures. Whatever the reason, his momentary distraction was the thing that Nott needed. 

She had to seize the chance, because in this moment, she wouldn’t get another one. So she launched herself, bouncing as energetically as a rubber ball, up at the human’s face, letting out a hair raising screech as she did. It was the only rational thought she had time for: make a noise, draw attention, and hope against hope that Caleb was listening. Because she needed help. Now.

Nott wasn’t sure if her war cry was loud enough to draw attention, but when she snapped her teeth down into human skin for the second time in three days, his howl of pain was certainly audible. It was vicious. Far more brutal in fact than she’d actually meant, or had the heart, to be. She hadn’t been aiming for his face, but that was what she got. A mouthful of soft cheek, then a stiff crunch as her teeth pierced through his nose, and the familiar bloom of hot runny blood filled her mouth. 

He yelled so loud, and his face was bleeding so profusely when Nott pulled away, that it frightened her. “Sorry!” She yelped, almost as confused and disoriented as her victim was. No time to stop though. The human tried to slash at her with his sword, though in her present grapple, he seemed to be having trouble striking at her while not cutting himself. She just pulled out of reach by a hair, avoiding injury by the skin of her teeth. 

“So sorry!” She apologized hurriedly, and got a good mouthful in the meat of his shoulder. He didn’t seem to hear her apology, though in the present chaos, Nott could hardly blame him. She hardly had the clarity to understand herself. 

Then the human finally got his balance, and took advantage of his size. With a dull grunt of effort, he got a handful of her shirt front and shoved her backwards, sending her careening through empty air. A shudder ran through the cart as Nott slammed into the boxes, and tumbled to the floor. Her face smashed against something on the way down, and when she recovered enough to take stock of herself, her nose was bleeding. 

_Caleb, Caleb, Celeb,_ where on earth was he? She really needed his help. 

Nott scrambled back to her feet, a mix of scarlet human blood and her own darker brackish color beginning to run down her chin. She wasn’t the prettiest sight at the moment. She didn’t have time to think of appearances though. Her life depended on speed, not looks, and she threw herself back into action without a second thought. 

She went after another bite, this time somewhere in the region of the human’s knees because she was on the ground, but this attempt went wide. And with the copper of blood in her mouth, and the heat of the moment, the rational side of her brain couldn’t decide whether or not she was grateful. The pain and hate was so distasteful every time. 

The sword came before she was ready for it, and it hurt more than Nott thought anything had ever hurt before. It was a solid strike, one vicious thrust that caught her under the arm. She felt it sink down, scrapping against her ribs, drawing a long bloody line along her side. Nott screamed, nearly stumbling to her knees, as the world went woozy. 

And then Caleb was there. Where he came from, what he’d been doing while she was fighting alone, how he’d found his way to her side now, Nott couldn’t tell. All she knew was the rush of overwhelming relief and courage at the sight of him. They could still do this, it wasn’t over yet. 

This time it wasn’t a surprise, when she saw the savage look on his face, the merciless ferocity of his expression. It was the same familiar look of cold blooded murder, he’d revealed last time they’d truly been in danger. An iron edge of militant unflinching ruthlessness so completely different from himself, it was like seeing two different people, when compared to the shrinking skittish little boy she usually saw. 

Last time it had haunted her, this time it delighted her. Because this time she recognized the brutality as Power, the true face of Caleb’s unyielding judgement, and she wanted the power, wanted the judgement. She needed it to save her, trusted it to come to her aid. 

Caleb flicked his wrist, the familiar edge of charcoal already licking up his arm, and when he chanted the arcane words Nott’s hair nearly stood on end. The tension of raw power in the words was such a force in the room, it made her skin prickle. And Nott didn’t have to understand the words to know what they called on, sparks and shivering waves of heat were dancing in the air like a deadly fairy dust, before Caleb even conjured the flames in his hand. 

Even before Caleb did it, Nott could already read it in his face: her attacker was fucked.

The dance of his fingers was almost careless as he released the spell, relaxed and graceful. With a wave of heat the fire leapt from his hand, released without the slightest hint of restraint, lethally eager to do his bidding. It surged over Caleb’s victim like a living thing, the personified image of his vicious unforgiveness, and it was almost sterile in its efficiency. 

All that appeared when the flame’s licked up and vanished was a little pile of dust. Nott stared at it, struggling to take in the display she’d just witnessed. What had Caleb said? Magic was Power, and Nott could see that he’d been right. One man reduced to ashes with hardly an effort at all. 

“Cay—“ Nott mumbled weakly, swaying dangerously as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Her entire side felt like one burning agony, blood dripping in nonsense splatters on the ground. 

“Nott! _Mein freund, mein_ little friend,” Caleb said so hurriedly, accent so thick with worry, Nott couldn’t have understood it, if the words weren’t familiar. He swooped forward just in time to catch her before she fell, holding her up, and gingerly touching the gash along her ribs. “You’re hurt! He hurt you!” 

“Nah, it’s fine—” she weakly protested. “I’m fine, really Caleb!” 

“Here, let me carry you, we need to go,” Caleb began. 

“Wait, I need—we need this.“ Nott couldn’t articulate any more, but she pushed out of Caleb’s arms, and found she was able to stand on her own. “I found a bunch of gold and stuff, it’s really shiny Caleb, and we’ll be super rich and all that!” 

Tottering hurriedly, Nott rushed to gather up her knapsack. Some of the coins had fallen out when she dropped it, and even with the urgency, Nott couldn’t bring herself to leave them. They were just so shiny. She needed them. 

“I didn’t find any books though,” Nott apologized, as she hurriedly crawled after the coins that had rolled off into corners and crevices among the goods in the wagon. “I know you wanted those.” 

“That is alright, friend.” Caleb said absently. “I can do without them.” 

He was looking at the books as she straightened, turning to glance at his face, and his expression was burning with longing. Clearly he was more disappointed than he claimed. For a moment his eyes roamed wistfully over all the leather bound tomes he wouldn’t have time to read, and Nott let him have his moment of longing. 

Then she saw his eyes sharpen, and his face suddenly lit up with an expression of delight. He dove forward with a strangled cry of exaltation, pawing aside the books in pursuit of one coveted object. Finally, nearly shaking with happiness, he emerged with a tightly sealed leather case. 

It was a beautiful thing, rather sleek, and almost small for how excited Caleb was about it. But Nott could see that despite it’s simplicity, it was clearly expensive, crafted in richly stained red leather, and carefully stitched together with gold cord. One end had a cap fitted over it that was buckled down, and with a strange symbol एफ embossed into the top. Not nearly as large, or even exciting looking as some of the books, but Caleb was looking at the case like he was holding the secret to immortality in his hands. 

“ _Ja! Ja, ja, ja, ich bin so glücklich. Dies ist perfekt—_ ” Caleb said, unconsciously reverting to a gush of rapid Zemnian. He was holding out the case as he spoke, as if he was explaining it to her, but Nott couldn’t make head or tail of it, and he didn’t appear to notice the language change in his enthusiasm. 

“That’s very nice Caleb...” Nott said patiently, unwilling to burst his bubble of excitement. 

“ _Ja_ , I am so happy.” Caleb said, switching back into common without the slightest notice, or any apparent idea that he’d been speaking something else. “This is _gut_ , this is very _gut_ for us Nott.” 

Nott only nodded kindly. She’d have to take his word for it. Caleb probably would have stood looking at the case longer, but Nott was becoming aware of their predicament again. Lurid smears of red light were filtering through the breaks in the wagon cover, dancing dangerously on the walls, and outside the wagon she could hear shouting. They really needed to go.

“Caleb!” Nott exclaimed sharply to snap him out of his reverie, “we should go right? We should go.” 

With a startled look Caleb glanced up, taking in their surroundings, and his face darkened. He nodded silently, and tucked the leather case into some inner pocket of his coat, moving methodically. Nott hoisted up the knapsack full of coin onto her back, hissing under her breath as the movement sent a shredded stab of pain through her ribs and into her chest. Then Caleb was bending down, his face softening with momentary gentleness again. 

“Here,” he said, already moving to gently pull the knapsack from her grip, “let me carry that. Can you ride on my shoulders without falling? Even if I run?” 

Nott’s only answer was to hold her arms out, waiting to be lifted, and Caleb complied. In one heave she was up on his shoulders, and she gripped the claws of her toes down into his coat, while her fists wrapped around his hair. Safe a secure, she settled in for the ride. Quickly Caleb turned to leave the wagon, carrying Nott along as he went. The world lurched as he jumped out, and Nott gripped in tight with all her might. 

It was utter chaos outside.

In the distance one of the wagons was a blazing inferno. Flames danced like wicked little spirits, leaping high into the sky, and a column of smoke was rising up to meet the clouds overhead. Little shadows were darting in front of the flames, trying to contain them and get close enough to douse the fire or retrieve anything from the cart. But the fire was spreading despite their best efforts, beginning to creep outward into the grass, eating its way deadly and irrevocable to the other nearby wagons. 

“What’s goin’ on Caleb?!” Nott shouted above the din of urgent human voices calling to each other. 

“I set one of the wagons on fire, to give me some time.” Caleb called back, already darting off among the other carts, making for the darkness at the edge of the camp. “Their horses are all tied up to it, so they had to go and save them.” 

Behind them there was a shout, indistinguishable, but the meaning was plain enough. They’d been seen. Looking back Nott could see a burly human barreling after them as hard as he could run, and two others were already joining him. Nott’s heart jumped in her chest, kicking up into higher gear, as the panic of being pursued shot through her veins.

“Um, they’re followin’ us.” Nott nervously observed, gripping tighter around Caleb’s head and shoulders. 

“That’s alright. I’ll burn them if they get close!” Caleb shouted back. 

Nott bounced as Caleb went into a full sprint, and despite all her care she nearly lost her grip. But she managed to keep a hold. And then it was a desperate run, shoving headlong through the grass. With a heave Caleb emerged into the open road, and in another moment he’d crossed it, diving into the grass on the other side. Then it was all uphill, as Caleb began to scale the low ridge that flanked the road on the other side. All the ground rising upward, like one forever fixed wave, thrust up black and sharply edged against the sky. 

Glancing back, Nott could see that the scene below them was quickly turning into a nightmare. The fire had spread, eating up the grass, until it had reached three other wagons grouped close together, and they were quickly becoming a pile of dry matchwood like the first cart. But the truly horrible thing was the first fire. From the look of things, it appeared that the humans had been able to save all but one horse. And that horse, tethered to the cart as it burned, was doomed to burn alive with it.

They reached the top of the hill, and then Nott heard a truly awful sound behind them. It wasn’t one she’d ever heard before, but it was in fact a horse’s scream, shredding through the night. The light thrown up against the hilltop was brighter, blood red illumination that made the grass look crimson. The shouts of panic in the wagon camp sharpened. And when those sounds, the horse’s cry and the human ones broke upon the night, Caleb turned to look back, stumbling with fatigue. 

It was his pillar of salt. 

As soon as he looked back he stopped running, standing frozen and immovable on the brow of the hill. The red firelight was thrown upward strong and bright across his face, and in the dancing light and shadows he looked hollow, gaunt and skull like. And his face was fixed, like something carved in stone, all locked in one expression of stark, petrified _terror_. 

With a lurch in her stomach, Nott felt a surge of nauseating concern. It was heavy and solid, like a stone dropping into her stomach, and she nearly forgot every other danger and chaos in her sudden overwhelming worry for Caleb. He looked awful, pulled apart and vulnerable. It was like nakedness, but an exposure that hurt you to look at, like the nakedness of a bleeding animal with its intestines pulled out and scattered everywhere. 

Caleb looked broken in a way she’d never seen him shatter.

He was almost enough to distract her, but not quite. They were still in danger, out in the open. And Nott, with her constant skittish anxiety, was painfully aware of every tiny detail of their peril. The fire still spreading, their exposed position on the hilltop, and the pursuers still making steady progress up the hill. This was bad. This was really, really bad, and Caleb was oblivious to all of it. 

“Caleb?” Nott said, her voice shaking as she struggled not to panic, which would only worsen this terrible situation.

No answer

“Caleb, wake up.” Nott bucked in her seat on his shoulders, in the same way you would try to spur on a horse, tugging her two handfuls of Caleb’s hair up and down. She needed him to move. To get back in control. 

He still wasn’t listening. 

“Caleb.” Nott snapped, rocking harder on his shoulders, and pulling his hair with the genuine desire to make it hurt. “Come on, wake _up_.”

He was lost in the flames

“Caleb.” 

Nothing.

“Caleb!” 

For one sharp, _sharp_ moment, Nott looked at the ground below her, and contemplated leaving him. Time was running out, and Caleb wasn’t moving. She had to go, or the humans were going to skin her alive. Then she looked at his face again, the jagged pain written across every hollow angle of it, and she knew. She couldn’t leave. 

Not when her boy needed help.

“Caleb _wake up_ now!” 

He was floating in a trance, the flames reflecting off his eyes, like the tongues were dancing behind them. 

“Caleb!!!” 

She could see the human faces by now, like a pack of wolves closing in, as they trudged up the last few yards of the hill. 

“Caleb _PLEASE_!” Nott begged, her voice rising to shriek, as it broke into her mind that they were both about to die. She hated the emptiness in his gaze, and in a last ditch attempt at recovering him, she shielded his eyes, and screamed in his ear. “ _Please, please!!! Wake up. Or they’re gonna kill us!_ ”

Finally he moved, as his hands reached up to press hers, where she was blinding him. A spike of terror went through her, as she thought for half a second that he was trying to pull her hands away. But instead he screwed his palms into his eyes, holding her hands secure beneath his, like he was trying to squeeze his own eyes out. He sobbed, hard, deep in his chest, like the strangled cry of someone drowning.

Lurching like a drunken beggar or a dying man on the verge of falling, Caleb wrenched himself away from his frozen stance on the hilltop, and stumbled down the leeward side of the ridge. Nott was gripping with all her might to stay on his back, and she had to pull her hands away in order to keep her hold. But Caleb was moving now, and the removal of her hands didn’t make him stop, as he dashed headlong down the slope. 

With a look behind she could see the humans following after. But Caleb was desperate. He was running, fleeing like a wild thing, an animal with no thought but making it’s limbs move as fast as possible. He was running from more than just his enemies, and their pace quickly dropped behind.

Every second there was a terror hiding in every shadow. Nott could only cling to Caleb’s back, struggling with all her might to keep her seat, or get left behind. It was all run, run, run, like a throb in the back of her mind. The simple fear driving her onwards, pulling her close to Caleb, terrified to draw away. 

_Run, run, run_. Till they would both be forced to drop.

They were in trees now. Since when were there trees less than several miles away from the road? With a start Nott realized that she didn’t know how long they’d been running, it had felt like only minutes, but the distance said it had been longer. Nott couldn’t see any pursuers, when she worked up enough courage to look back. 

With a shiver, she forced herself to relax. And the clarity made her suddenly become aware of Caleb. Underneath her he was shaking with weariness, stumbling every few moments as if he was about to fall, but after every fumble he always forced himself on. 

“Caleb?” 

He was still running. There was no need to run, unless it were from hidden demons.

“W—we can stop now...they gave it up...” Nott tried to reason.

She could hear the raggedness of Caleb’s breathing now. He was choking rather, one strangled heave for air after another, rocking through his chest like desperation. And each labored gasp sounded sharp enough to shred his lungs. With a feeble stumble, he reeled forward to catch himself against a tree, gripping the bark like it was the only steady thing he had left. 

“That’s right, you—you can stop. It’s...it’s alright, ya know? Heh heh...” Nott stammered, trying hard to comfort him. 

Caleb moaned, something weak and threadbare, and dragged himself up to stumble forward. Nott’s heart cracked a little. He was so worn out, he could barely force himself to walk, but still he was dragging himself onwards. It was a truly pitiful state to see him in, made all the more heartrending because there was absolutely nothing Nott could do about it. He was deaf and blind, lost in his own blackness, where Nott’s light couldn’t reach him. 

One stumbling faulty step came after another, each one squeezing around Nott’s heart that little bit harder. He nearly fell more than once, catching himself against trees again, and again, and again. And every time he just lurched up, and staggered on, again, and again, and again. It was only dogged determination keeping him on his feet, instead of crawling.

Then Caleb gaged, and it was all the warning Nott had before he pitched forward and emptied his stomach. 

Nott’s heart finally shattered, shivering into pieces at the state of him. He was shaking on his hands and knees, finally brought to rest. But it was the resting state of exhaustion, not of contentment, and obsessive tension still thrummed through every limb. 

Trembling with her own need, her own intense concern, Nott slid from his shoulders. He was so restless, and she didn’t know how to make him relax, scrambling for a way to help him. Her hands were shaking, trembling with the fear that she was about to break him, as she reached out to touch his face. 

His skin was clammy, cold with sweat against the fever heat of his exertion, and he looked pale in the darkness. Little trembles were running through his body, a low shiver he couldn’t shake. The touch of her hands made him flinch, when she put her hands on his face, starting at the contact and looking up into her face. And the sight of his eyes meeting hers sent another fracture through her heart, because it wasn’t Caleb she saw. None of his intelligence, the constant swirl of thoughts she’d come to reconcile as inseparable from himself, this was only a wild thing, a creature driven by fear. 

“Shhh...” she rushed through her teeth, cupping both his cheeks. It was the only sound small enough to make it past the lump in her throat. He shuddered at the sound of her voice, his eyes, wide, dilated, panic-stricken eyes, still locked unto her face. 

“Shhhh.” Nott soothed again. 

It made her quake with nerves to do it, half afraid that he was going to strike her, or she would just make it worse. But she carefully reached up, gently pressing her fingers over his eyelids, and coaxing him to close them. He did it, and a shuddering breath that she hadn’t realized he’d been holding, punched out of him like he couldn’t keep it in any longer. 

“Shhh.” 

Nott pushed him sideways and he yielded, slowly giving up inch by inch, as she coaxed him down. She only just had enough control to keep him out of his own bile, and finally she managed to settle him. Still shushing through her teeth, she knelt over his face, knowing better than to put his head in her lap last time. 

His arm snaked up to grasp around her torso again, Nott stroked his hair, and for a moment all was quiet. She saw the desperate strain in his shoulders vanish, relaxing at her touch. Then in the absence of fear, the pain he’d been running from finally caught him, and he sobbed a moment later. 

The grip of his arm around her body hardened to iron, clinging desperately. And Nott didn’t look, didn’t need to see. She let him have his shelter, concentrating on combing his hair, and leaning forward to let her body shield his weakness. 

“Shhhh.” Nott shushed again, and Caleb keened in her lap, a drawn, shredded wail of agony. That tiny sound made Nott’s own eyes burn and blur with tears, biting her lip to fight it back, as her heart broke all over again. Cracking apart at the sight and sound of him.

Her boy, her baby boy, her Caleb in so much pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there....
> 
>  
> 
> ...I’m so sorry.....
> 
>  
> 
> ...I privately believe Caleb rolled a Nat 20 on that Fire Bolt...if that makes anyone feel better...


	5. Stop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another stop in the Pain Train Station, and I’m giving you guys fair warning: this chapter will have possible triggers that I detail at the end of the chapter. So look to the tags, and if you see any that raise your eyebrows, don’t read.

Caleb had fallen in exhausted stupor. After releasing all his pent up grief, he had no energy left, and had become dazed. She couldn’t exactly tell if he was awake or not, because his eyes were still open, but even if he was awake he certainly wasn’t aware. Which meant Nott had to be so for him.

She’d pinched herself to stay awake, and keep vigil over him, for most of the night.

That had been hours ago. Now the first grayness of a sunrise was starting to creep through the trees, faint colors beginning to make impressions on her brain, instead of the black and white of darkvision. Somewhere a bird was tuning up, which made Nott’s stomach grumble because she was hungry, and even the hassle of eating a bird was starting to seem appealing. But she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore.

Every few moments her eyes would begin to droop, and she would catch herself just as she was beginning to sag. It had been a long, taxing night for both her and Caleb, so the exhaustion was finally catching up now. She needed something, either a good sleep or a good cry, because both seemed equally appealing, and were long overdue.

In the absence of sleep, tears seemed like an increasingly unavoidable alternative. Her eyes were starting to prickle, and she sniffled, as she leaned forward once again to check on Caleb. He never responded to her touch, when she checked on him, and this time was just the same. But when she brushed his hair aside, enough for her to see his face, his eyes were closed.

At last, he appeared to have fallen asleep. Nott gave an undignified sniffle, trying hard to keep her snot in check, and a hot tear leaked out in spite of herself. Then, finally, with Caleb safely asleep, and her own inhibitions removed by weariness, Nott let herself break a little. Her fear, and worry, and concern at Caleb’s state, the panic she’d felt for herself, the physical pain of facing a fight she’d nearly lost, it all released at last.

It was the lynchpin that forced her to relax, and she was asleep before she’d nearly finished.

***

When Nott came back to herself, it appeared to be several hours later. The sun was already well along it’s journey, beginning to sink toward the horizon, and she felt more rested. She was also sitting in a different position than the one she’d fallen asleep in.

At some point she’d been shifted, until she was lying on her side facing away from Caleb. He’d slung one arm over her body, holding her in place, while the bony warmth at her back was unmistakable. He must have roused enough to move her, and that fact was cheering, helping to buoy her up with the realization that Caleb was still aware of his surrounding. Present enough to want her closer to him.

That was good.

With a sigh, Nott turned over, careful to keep his arm in place. He was still asleep, or had fallen back asleep, once he had his goal and Nott was cuddled up with him. Nott sighed, feeling the little tension she’d amassed release, comforted by the sight of him looking so peaceful. Humming contentedly, she gripped her fists around the lapels of his baggy coat, pulling herself closer and burrowing into the fabric.

He smelled nice. Nott had a pretty sharp sense of smell, not as good as most beasts, but better than most other bipedal creatures. And as she dug her face into Caleb’s coat, she could smell the myriad of scents that always clung to him. When she got close enough to really take it in, Caleb was a walking heap of smells.

The dry scent of Dust, mud, rotting leaves, grass, and most prominently the tang of body odor, all clung to him. Other smells, like smoke, burnt wood, old paper, cheep ink, and musty leather were all hidden underneath. And deeper still, a very subtle spicy smell, with no origin that Nott could identify, that always hung about him whether he was clean or dirty.

Maybe it was his magic.

Nott liked that theory. And it made her dig in closer, searching for the smell. Because it would really be something, to claim that you knew what magic smelled like, and if she knew maybe she’d be able to pick out wizards anywhere. Or maybe they wouldn’t smell like Caleb. He’d explained that magic was unique to the user, and every caster found a different way to channel the same energy. So maybe they would all smell different too. If that was the case, she’d memorize Caleb’s smell anyway, and then she’d always know him.

That was her plan. But she fell asleep again in the middle of it.

***

It was slow, but Caleb was getting back on his feet. At least, that was what Nott thought, at first.

He’d obviously hit a wall, something he hadn’t expected and wasn’t prepared for, that night on the hilltop when they’d so nearly died. And it took a toll on him. He was hardly present at first, floating in his own void where the outside world hardly mattered. She could move him, feed him, and even occasionally coax single words out of him. But he wasn’t himself.

Several days on end had been like that. Nott had been patient just as usual, and the patience had been rewarded, as he began more and more to resurface. He was still quiet, but he moved more, _watched_ more. And in the same way he’d craved contact before, he never declined the chance to be close now. Slow, reluctant, but it was progress.

That’s what Nott had hoped. But he scared her, and then she wasn’t so sure.

Nott was cleaning a pair of fish she’d managed to catch, gutting them with her little knife. She was chattering about nothing in particular, since Caleb wouldn’t talk, but more easily lost himself if Nott didn’t keep at least a part of his mind busy attending to her. It was distraction, something to fill the silent noise she could sense in his brain.

He was sitting, still and silent next to her, just watching her clean the fish. But Nott could tell he was present, because she could feel him stealing little glances at her, just like the old way. He found it hard to make eye contact with her. Even in his best moods he wasn’t always willing to look at her, and that reluctance only strengthened in his darker moments. But that didn’t stop him from observing when it was safe to look, without someone looking back. Nott knew it, and so she kept her head carefully turned toward the fish, giving Caleb the negative space to engage with her.

It was encouraging, feeling his silent attention fixed on her hands as she moved.

Job finished, Nott carefully set down her fish and knife on a flat rock she’d been using for a tiny table, and she felt Caleb’s eyes break away at the movement, cautious of being caught in the middle of watching her. She pretended to be oblivious, rising to her feet and beginning to lay out a campfire. The wood was already piled up, and she only had to stack it, so the flame would catch. Though, even with the best built up fire, she might not be able to light it.

These days it was a 50/50 chance whether they would have a fire or not. Usually it was Caleb that got the flame started, with his magical hand. But since he’d fallen into the old darkness, and they camped out waiting for him to get back on his feet, he adamantly refused to set fire to anything. Not so much in words, but his silent indifference to her requests for him to do so.

Which meant Nott had to try and use her tinder box, which she wasn’t very handy with. So she did her best now, laying out the best fire she could, with plenty of dry fuel. She didn’t like the taste of raw fish, it was too...fishy...but raw fish would be safe to eat, if the fire didn’t catch, which was why she’d caught them in the first place. And it seemed like it had been a good idea. As soon as she began trying to start up a flame, she had the sinking feeling that she wouldn’t be able to manage it.

She was deeply absorbed in the fire, and when Caleb spoke it made her jump. The sound was so unexpected, after his continual silence for days on end. The fact that he was even voluntarily talking made her heart dance, before she took in the meaning of his words, and they gave her an entirely different feeling.

“Do you ever get sick of yourself?”

Nott turned to look at him, her work momentarily suspended, “what?”

He was frowning thoughtfully, his mind busily spinning behind his eyes. He looked calm, almost calculating, and more there than she’d seen him look in days.

“It seems like it would be easier...” He said softly.

Something glinted in his hand, the glitter catching Nott’s eye, and she looked down to see what he was holding. It was the little knife she’d left on the rock next to him, when she finished cleaning the fish. The blade looked small in his hands, a thin glitter of silver, that he handled almost carelessly. Turning it over in his hands.

And the sight of Caleb holding it made Nott’s stomach flutter. A little lurch of something instinctive and uncomfortable, that she couldn’t exactly name. But she knew she didn’t like it.

“Caleb...” she said, in a voice of careful quiet.

“It would be easier.” Caleb murmured, not paying her the slightest attention. He twisted the blade, the sunlight lancing across the reflective surface, and he watched the light dance. “If you could just stop...”

The tension in Nott stomach solidified, suddenly drawing tight enough to hurt. She looked at the blade, then at his face. And he looked so calm, so at ease, that it frightened her. He was still playing with the knife, and all Nott could remember was how sharp it was, and how many times she’d accidentally cut herself by mistake. But this time it wouldn’t be a mistake

She had to make him put that knife down. Right. Now.

“Caleb.”

“I could just... _stop_...” Caleb stated tonelessly. And there were no disguises, no pretentious now, he was speaking straightforward, and they both knew what he meant.

He turned the blade, flicking up a glint of reflected light, and pressed his thumb against the edge. It was slow, deliberate, calculated. And as a little rivulet of blood trickled down the blade, Caleb just watched. He didn’t seem surprised, didn’t seem hesitant, or frightened of the pain. He just hummed and pressed harder, watching his blood drip on the ground.

“ _Caleb_.” Nott snapped, suddenly firm. As she walked over, and snatched the knife out of his hands.

The absence made him start, like someone shaken out of a day dream. In the same moment he reached after the blade, Nott put it behind her back, and his eyes flew up to meet her gaze. It lasted for only half an instant, but in that exchange that took up less space than a single breath, Nott saw a flash of naked honesty cross his eyes. As they met hers, and he looked for that half second so pleading, it made her heart sting. Made her ache at the bitter truth: how much he really wanted it.

“The fish are still dirty, they need to be washed” Nott said quietly, carefully keeping the knife out of reach. “The stream is right over there.”

The open window in his eyes closed. He sighed, heavy and labored, looking away. As the painful truth was covered up again. Obediently he picked up the two fish, dragging himself up from the ground, and Nott watched him go. The stream was only a few yards off, and if she looked hard she could just see him through the trees.

She didn’t have much worry though. It would be a little difficult for him to drown himself in a shallow brook. Even if he wanted to, his body’s natural instincts would fight him, and it was hardly deep enough anyway.

Much more pressing was the scene she’d just witnessed. The honest truth she’d just seen. As she contemplated how badly matters really stood, and how lost Caleb really was. It was heartbreaking to understand him at last.

No wonder he was so withdrawn. No wonder he had so little joy, engaged so little with the world around him, cared so little for himself. A terrible way to live, with Death so present on your mind, Life couldn’t hold a place anymore. What an awful thing to want.

And she mustn’t let him. That much was clear. It was her job to keep him, because Caleb mustn’t get what he wanted. If he was going to live, it would have to be because she made him, since he was too careless to try for himself.

That was a burden that ached, even as she accepted it. A painful way to look at the world, as it were only a place full of ways to die. As she looked around at their camp, it made her a little sick, reluctant to examine the world in his mindset. But she’d have to. If she wanted to keep him alive, she’d have to shield all the ways he could die.

In the end she felt better after looking though.

The woods, though wild and uncomfortable, on the whole seemed fairly safe. The stream was too shallow, they didn’t have any ridges or places he could jump from and hurt himself, and best of all: they were far from civilization. Mankind, with all it’s aggressive desire for control, of lands, and people, and the world around them, had come up with far to many harmful ways to keep their dominion. There would have been too many options for Nott to confiscate them all.

The woods seemed fairly safe. And in the meantime, Nott would hide the knives.

***

It didn’t come up again until several days later.

They’d settled down by the fire after dinner, watching the dance of flames as they threw shadows against the trees, swallowed up by the darker night. The woods were almost eerily silent at night, which made Nott nervous. And Nott talked when she was nervous, so she’d chattered for several minutes, to fill the silence. Now her voice died away, as the silence made its way back into her head, and they both sat looking at the fire.

“Nott...” Caleb whispered, hardly loud enough to hear. As if he couldn’t work of the courage to speak clearly, and this half hearted attempt to would fade away into silence again, if she didn’t notice.

“Y-yeah?”

“Can I...” he was tense with indecision, when Nott stole a look at him out of the corner of her eye, locked in conflict between what he wanted and his reluctance to ask for it. “Can—can I braid your hair?”

“Yeah—“ Nott stammered, flushing a dark olive color, and struggling against her own embarrassment. “It—it’s kinda dirty, so if you—I don’t mind if—but if you don’t want—you don’t have to—I mean.....sure...”

Still blushing, but pushing forward in spite of all that, Nott unsteadily rose from the ground, and tottered over to sit in Caleb’s lap. Biting her lip, she unclasped her cloak, which usually held down her hair tucked at the back, and pushed it away so she could shake herself. A little hesitant, the weight of Caleb’s hands settled on top of her hair.

It was rather matted and greasy, making Nott blush deeper and _almost_ wish that she bathed, but Caleb didn’t seem to mind. He just silently began parting the dreaded black strands into sections, careless of how tangled and rough her hair was. The unfamiliar feeling made her stiff, but Caleb was so gentle she relaxed in spite of herself.

Then his thumb brushed against her cheek. She’d bandaged the cut after she’d hidden the knives and he returned with the fish, carefully cleaning the wound. Neither of them had commented on it, how he’d gotten it, and certainly not why. Feeling the linen bandage brush against her skin made her remember.

She bit her lip—not to keep from crying—but because there was suddenly so much she wanted to say. Sitting here in Caleb’s lap, with his hands playing in her hair. Nobody had ever done anything like this for her: petted her hair, held her hand, carried her around. And that realization made everything else in her mind come clear, as she knew exactly what she wanted to say.

“It wouldn’t be easier.” Nott declared firmly, looking at the fire, but speaking to Caleb.

“Hmmm?” He questioned absently, still hanging back from actual speech. But she could tell that he was listening, his hands had faltered for half a moment, before he began plaiting her hair again.

“It wouldn’t be easier: if you...” Nott’s voice trailed away, leaving the word _Stopped_ hanging unspoken in the air. She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

Caleb didn’t answer. He was silently braiding her hair, and Nott could tell, he didn’t want to talk. The silence said everything. That was too bad though, because Nott had learned: Caleb didn’t always want what was best. And sometimes, what was best, was to force him. So she talked anyway.

“It wouldn’t be easy,” Nott asserted again. “Because...I would be sad...”

“Would you.” He sounded almost skeptical, a tinge of doubt hanging on the end of his words, as his own perception colored her meaning.

“Yeah!” Nott said, a little more emphatically in the face of opposition. Then she softened again, as she contemplated the idea, and shrank away from it. “I would be sad and...I would...I would _really_ miss you...Caleb...”

“You would miss me?” Caleb repeated.

There was so much disbelieving wonder in that simple phrase, it stabbed Nott through the chest. The bitter self-loathing in his surprise standing out painfully clear. The fact that it startled him, only exposed how little he’d thought himself worthy of other people’s regret.

He was so...stupid...

“Of course I would miss you.” Nott declared, carefully hiding away her pity, and speaking to Caleb as he was. After all, her sympathy couldn’t change him. “I really like you Caleb.”

“Why...” He murmured it under his breath, a thought he clearly hadn’t meant for her to hear. She heard it anyway.

So stupid...

“Because you’re my friend.” Nott said blushing. It felt awkward to explain, but Caleb in his present state clearly couldn’t understand without it. “You don’t hate me because I’m...what I am...and you’re teachin’ me magic, and all kinds of cool stuff. You’re smart, and know so much, and you’re just so kind...to me you know...and...and hardly anybody cared like you do...”

No answer, but his hands had gone still in her hair. Nott could feel his eyes fixed on the back of her head. So she kept her own face averted, and let him watch her, while unobserved himself.

“So I’d be really sad.” Nott went on, still looking at the fire. “Because you’re my friend...and I love you...”

Caleb’s hand convulsively squeezed almost painfully tight around her hair. And she distinctly caught the soft gasping breath of a sob, wet and vulnerable and hastily stifled. His hands were still gripped painfully tight into her hair, trembling just a little, which he clearly hadn’t noticed or he would probably have tried to stop.

“I love you.” She repeated more firmly, and suddenly turned around on Caleb’s lap, so she could look into his face.

His hands released her hair as it tugged out of reach, falling limp in his lap. As she looked up into his face, he glanced down, fixing his eyes on his empty hands. Just as shy of confrontation as ever.

“Do you believe me?” She demanded.

His silence said everything. The reluctant way he fixated on his hands, and the way he picked at the edge of his bandage. Nott wanted to shake him, if she didn’t burst into tears for him first.

Such a stupid, _stupid_ boy.

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“I am...not sure that I can...” He admitted, so quietly she almost didn’t hear it, like it was a truth he admitted to himself.

“Will you try?” She asked.

But she could see that was the wrong way. Words were hard for him, words were ineffective, pushed back by the invisible walls. With only words, she would never convince him, and with words he couldn’t answer. So she tossed words away.

As she reached up, grasping hold of two handfuls of Caleb’s coat, and used them to balance her as she stood up. Then, standing on his knees like the time she’d fed him, she settled her arms around his neck. For a moment it terrified her to think that he wouldn’t reach back, then his arms circled around her body. And as he squeezed tight to her, like she was the thing holding him grounded, she felt him nod against her shoulder. A wordless answer to the question she had asked.

“I didn’t finish.” Caleb stated, after they’d been silent for nearly a minute.

For a moment Nott frowned in confusion, then she realized what he meant, and pulled away. Without a word of acknowledgement, she turned back around, and settled in his lap again. Caleb’s hands settled in her hair a moment later, returning to the braid he hadn’t finished. His hands weaved in careful silence, until he’d finished, and tied a knot in the end of her hair to hold it.

Still no words, but he gently pushed the braid over her shoulder so she could look at it. The plait was thick, almost like rope, and surprisingly long. The hair was still as rough and ragged as ever, but Caleb’s braid had made order of it. She liked it. He’d been very neat, and it looked pretty. She wasn’t used to being pretty.

“We should find a town.” He stated awkward and mechanical, to the silence. “I haf a spell to put in my book.”

Nott knew what he was really saying. Gestures with Caleb, meant more than they said, and she could read the meaning behind this one.

“ _I won’t stop_.” Was what he really meant. “ _And I will try_...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for: depression, self harm, suicidal thoughts/behavior, and discussions of suicide.
> 
> Idk if I’m super accurate, and in a way I hope I’m not, but I still wanted to leave a warning. Because that’s the polite thing to do.


	6. Have a Little Fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is 100% chaos from beginning to end. And I have no idea if it’s pure comedy, or pure cringe, but it’s what I wrote. Probably it’s a mixture of both. So here we are.

“Now here is your share.” Caleb said, digging out a small pouch that jingled and tucking it into Nott’s hands. “That’s your half right there, and I have my half right here.”

“Thanks Caleb.” 

“It’s yours,” he said dismissively, “to spend how you want.” 

Nott glanced over her shoulder at the building behind her. Dusk was starting to fall, and two lamps were swinging brightly, making a loud creak as they were tossed in the wind. Several men chatting animatedly brushed by the tiny goblin form, and crouching beggar man, and pushed into the building. Following her glance Caleb looked too, and his voice was sympathetic as he spoke. 

“Are you sure you would not rather come with me?” He asked, tucking a stray hair back inside her hood. “I will not take long, and you know we are safer together.”

“No! That’s...it won’t be a problem. I’ll be fine, you don’t have to worry. I’m fine. Really Caleb!”

“If you are sure...”

“Yeah...it’s fine...don’t worry.” Nott reassured clumsily, trying to smile innocently. “I’ll just wait here. And you said it wouldn’t take long.” 

“That is true,” he mused, half to himself, “it won’t take long at all.” 

“So I’ll be fine then!”

“ _Ja_.” He said with a smile, now fidgeting with the edge of her hood, pulling it closer around her face, and his hand settled on top of her head after the adjustment. “And then you and I will have a nice drink together.” 

“Sure!” 

“Ok.” 

He still seemed a little reluctant to leave her. But Nott smiled brightly, straightened her shoulders, and he stiffly rose to his feet. Pausing to pat her on the head, he turned, shuffling off down the dusty village street in the direction of the small general store, his grimy figure blending into the peasant crowd around him. 

Nott watched him go, carefully clutching her gold to her chest, and remaining frozen until he was safely out of sight. Then, grinning in the shadows of her hood, she turned to look up at the building behind her again. Her eyes ranged over the sign hanging above the door creaking in the wind: The Rest Your Rump Inn, with the crudely drawn graphic of a fat man sitting on a stool with his feet up on a table and his ass cheeks very lusciously pictured. 

It was high time to let loose, after bearing so much responsibility. 

Flitting shyly around the edge of the door, Nott entered the tavern. A wave of boisterous singing immediately washed over her, and looking at the common room business seemed to be in full swing. Huge men and women were stumbling everywhere, glasses clinked together, boots shuffled on the floor, and an unseen pottery dish smashed in the distance. A lively card game seemed to be drawing several onlookers in one corner, two men were waltzing together on top of another table, and a stiff drinking game was being conducted in yet another alcove. 

This was perfect. 

Darting cautiously to avoid being stepped on, Nott worked her way across the common room to the other side, where the bar was set into the wall. Most of the bar stools were filled, leaving two of them empty right next to each other, and Nott sidled up to one. It was built with typical human proportions, which meant it was taller than she was. Fixing her hands around one leg, like the stool was a ladder to climb, Nott began to struggle up towards a seat. 

“Need a hand there little fella?” A cheerful voice boomed, from somewhere in the vicinity of ceiling. 

A fist seized the back of her cloak before she could protest, hoisting her upwards until her feet met the seat of the stool. He was a rather paunchy fellow, dressed in a suit that was somewhat sweaty under the arm. The breath that puffed in her direction as she was lifted upwards already reeked of ale. Stealing a glance at his face revealed a somewhat fleshy blob, small piggy eyes, a receding hairline, and the red swollen nose of an incurable drunkard. 

Mumbling a wordless thanks, Nott steadied herself against the bar, somewhat dizzied by her sudden upward journey. It was still so big, that her chin just reached above the greasy bar top, and she had to stand up on tiptoe to see much higher. Doing so however made her mouth water. The entire back wall behind the bar was one line of glass bottles, all presumably filled with booze. Nott’s eyes stretched wide within her hood, and she briefly wondered if this wasn’t some kind of heaven for confirmed drinkers. 

“Feeling like a quick nip?” The drunkard asked jovially, obviously noticing her fixation on the bottles, and leaning forward to peer under the edge of her hood. With a shout of laughter, and a rather brainless grin, he exclaimed “hey now! I didn’t know half orcs came in your size! Ain’t you just adorable...”

“Uh—I’m not a—I mean...half orc! Sure! Ha ha...ha...” Nott yelped with a nervous laugh, sharply drawing away from the man’s attention. 

With a pat on the back that nearly took the wind out of her, the friendly soak turned to look down the bar, waving a blubbery hand at the tavern keep in the distance. “Oi Tork! Y’got another customer down here! Let’s get this fine little gentleman a drink hey?!” 

Nott bristled. She was a lady, thank you very much. Though, he seemed too drunk to care. 

“Aigh, I’m comin’ gimme half a second for fucks sake. Damn trains, make more fuss than they’re worth...” the barkeep, who’s name appeared to be Tork, grumbled to himself. He paused in front of Nott’s new unwanted friend, dusting his hands off on an apron that seemed more dirt than clean, and quite possibly smudged his hands further. “A drink wanted over here?” He asked blankly.

“Four please!” Nott squeaked anxiously, making the barkeep jump as he noticed her. “Your strongest! And another round to fill up this.”

She shoved her flask onto the counter, and the fat drunk next to her gave an obnoxious guffaw. 

“Hahaha! Lookit this little fella put it away!” He slapped her back again, and Nott hoped he wasn’t going to keep doing that or she’d have to choose another seat. “Gimme a round of the same Tork! I’m gonna drink this little fella’s health!” 

“Oh no you don’t,” Tork said firmly, “I’ve been watching you Frank. You’ve had enough.” 

“Tork what the fucking bitch on a—“ Frank began to rant, but Tork smoothly cut him off. Apparently he was used to Frank’s outbursts. The signs all pointed toward him being a regular customer. 

“If you want our strongest, that’s The Belly Buster, but it doesn’t come cheep.” He said, speaking loudly over Frank until the drunk was forced into silence, and he dropped his voice to a normal volume without a beat. “You sure you want four?” 

“And this.” Nott said, shoving her flask forward instead of answering. 

“Alright, if you’re sure...” Tork said, still frowning doubtfully. “That comes at five Silver a shot, and we’ll call it...an extra gold for the flask...” 

Without a word of protest Nott began to count out her money. She was by no means a good haggler, and too jittery to try, even if she wanted to. At this rate she needed some hard liquor in her stomach, and the sooner the better. 

Tork huffed a laugh at her silent determination, turning around to fetch down a small dark bottle from one of the highest shelves. Apparently the Buster end of the Belly Buster name had been loosely made a pun for the womanly Bust, if the paper label on the bottle were anything to go by. The picture of a woman with quite a generous chest, cupping a bottle between her breasts, didn’t really leave that up for debate. 

“I love that bottle every time you get it down.” Frank said, with a truly awful giggle that sounded far to girlish. 

“Not that you can afford it.” Tork quipped shortly, scooping Nott’s coins off the counter, and beginning to carefully fill her flask. “You only look like an aristocrat, you old bullshitter. I don’t know how you get buzzed with that pig swill you buy.” 

“Quantity, my friend, is a beautiful thing.” Frank said, trying to look intellectual and failing miserably. The sweat trickling down his face, and rolls of fat under his chin, certainly weren’t helping him. 

“Frank, you’re a fucking creep.”

The flask clunked with satisfying weight, as Tork put it back on the counter. Nott eagerly reached out to take it, feeling the slosh of blessed liquid, and she carefully tucked it under her cloak. Meanwhile Tork had been putting four shot glasses on the counter, and he now carefully filled the first one. 

It was a very dark, almost soupy liquid. A little like mud. Actually, a lot like mud. The alcohol almost had a grainy texture from what she could see, and was something closer to very melted syrup than water. Nott didn’t particularly care. As long as it would remove her inhibitions, kick in fast, and get her good and sauced. 

Before he’d even reached for the next empty glass, Nott had seized the first one, eager to the point of desperation. As she snatched it up in both her hands, and tossed it back. She really, really needed this, after staying on the wagon so long.

The first thing that hit her, before any other sensation, was the taste of nearly overwhelming sweetness. It tasted just as syrupy as it looked. Nott had taken some shots in her time that were nearly impossible to get down, but the candied flavor made this one a not entirely unpleasant experience. And the familiar feeling of warmth blooming up in the back of her throat was a comforting release of tension through her shoulders, before the burn even hit her stomach. The warm guarantee that she was about to feel very cozy, very, very soon.

“Well you certainly enjoyed that.” Tork commented, pausing as he poured the next glass, to look at her with one quirked eyebrow. 

“Gimme another one.” Was the only reply Nott snapped back, sticking out her hand impatiently. 

“Didn’t I say he could take his liquor? Din’t say that?” Frank slurred to no one in particular, slinging an arm around Nott’s shoulders. 

And oh gods, the next shot couldn’t come fast enough. 

Nott had it down her throat, in about the same amount of time it took for her heart to beat once. Why did drunk people have to be so touchy? Granted, Nott had made it her ambition to be one of those drunk people as soon as she could possibly manage it, but even Drunk Nott wasn’t as handsy as some humans she’d met in bars. As much as Nott loved the freedom offered by hard liquor, the experience of entering a civilized place for long enough to get some, was not nearly as pleasant. 

The third shot followed quickly on the second, surprising her with its rapid appearance. There didn’t seem to be any particular need for ceremony, and Nott didn’t beat around the bush. She had an inebriated state to achieve, as quickly as was bodily possible, and the social experience of drinking didn’t matter nearly as much to her as the drink itself. 

Safely in possession of a third shot headed for her stomach, Nott could feel the effects starting to creep up on her. The sensation of her face heating up, definitely had to mean something. It was a familiar feeling by now, the little tingles of heat beginning to rise across her body, the little sparkle of rose colored perception at the edges of her thoughts.

The last shot met her tongue like heaven, warm and sweet, and extremely intoxicating. She had a small body, and an empty stomach on top of that, which meant the first three were already making quick work of her system. It was a rose haze over her mind now, as everything in the bar softened, grew safer. Nott knew she was properly soaked when the people around her stopped looking scary.

And here at last was the end goal Nott had been chasing: inebriated boldness.

This was a nice bar. Nott decided that with sudden firmness, as she looked around at the boisterous states of intoxication she saw everywhere. It was close packed, warmed like an oven, and every face she looked at was smiling. Frank still had a friendly arm draped over her shoulder, and Nott liked the weight of it, admiring the material of his coat. It was a good coat. A good coat, and a good bar, as Nott had decided before. People were happy, and that happiness suddenly seemed infectious. 

“Who are all these people anyway?” Nott piped up loudly. 

Turning to look at the sea of people behind them made Nott’s head spin, heavy and off balance with too much sudden movement. The jungle of bodies seemed even more impenetrable, now that Nott’s eyes were having trouble picking out details. To her flawed perception it looked like fun though, card games drawing attention, three men all standing on a table dancing a horn pipe while several others clapped and cheered from below, and in one of the calmer alcoves two indistinguishable figures clearly caught in some sort of tryst under the cover of the general hubbub. 

“Haven’t ya heard?” Tork asked, his voice floating into the periphery of her ears. Turning back to look at him, Nott leaned on the counter and looked up at him, spellbound by his answer. “It’s one of those wagon trains coming through. They’re a big cause for business around here.” 

“Which one of them?” Nott said confusedly, frowning against the alcohol haze. 

“I don’t fucking know, I can’t keep track of them! They’re a big deal—and what can I get for you sir?”

This last clause was spoken, as another bulky body dropped onto the empty barstool that flanked Nott’s other side. Which itched, because she’d been hoping it would be free for Caleb, when he was done with his errands. And now she was trapped in on both sides, by two very large bodies, that cast her in shadows. Considering the tension up her spine, she wasn’t pickled enough yet. 

“Just an ale.” The rumbling voice of her new companion half shouted over the hubbub. 

“And another for me!” Nott said, shrill and demanding, waving one of her empty shot glasses in the air. 

“You sure four aren’t enough buddy?” Tork said with a stern frown, looking at Nott as he poured a mug of ale from the tap. 

“Just gimme a fuckin’ shot!” She snapped back sourly. “Old Geezer...”

“Well pardon me!” Tork said, the corner of his mouth twitching at Nott’s liquor fueled vocality. “I’ll have that coming right up, then.” 

“I can hold my grog.” Nott said, tilting her chin with blistering smugness. 

Tork bent to retrieve a fifth shot glass, and Nott began to gather up the dirty ones, licking out the last sheen of syrupy spirits on the inside of the glasses. Her newest companion, now in possession of his ale, looked down at the four empty shot glasses on the counter, and she heard a chuckle come floating down from above her. “I can see that.” The human said. 

A hand slapped her back, and Nott glanced up at the human that had taken Caleb’s seat. He was a bulky figure, not with fat like Frank sitting on her other side, but with muscles that were exposed under his sleeveless shirt. Stubbly blonde hair grew on his chin, and blue eyes looked down at her. Their eyes met, and his face suddenly twisted in recognition, as he sharply yanked his hand away.

“Well you’ve got some fucking nerve.” He snarled, and next thing Nott registered was a fist moving in the direction of her face. 

Nott yelped, ducking underneath the blow, and nearly loosing her balance. Shit. Shit. This was bad. All she’d wanted was a drink, and now she was in hot water, without Caleb’s help. As if things could get any worse. Her damn face caused a scene every time. 

“Whoa now! What’s all this?” Frank slurred stupidly, doing nothing to help anyone. 

One hammy fist seized the hood on the back of her cloak, suddenly hoisting her up into the air, where she kicked uselessly. Brought close to the human’s face, she could see the hate on it. Another screaming warning that everything was about to go sour, and she needed to get out of dodge, before she really got in trouble. 

“I suppose that means your friend is around here somewhere right?” He growled into her face. “Where is he then, hmmm? That bastard was just as full of fucking shit as he smelled.” 

Wait. How did he know about Caleb? It could only be Caleb he was talking about, in light of his offensive description. Wasn’t this about her? She was a goblin, and it pissed him off, right? But then, why would he involve Caleb? How did he even know about her boy anyway? And it filtered into Nott’s hazy brain that she should recognize him, if she could get enough clarity to think, because he looked familiar. 

Did she know him?

“Couldn’t just make off with our fucking lively hood and disappear could ya?” He growled, accompanied with a shake that made Nott’s teeth clack together. “Just had to come spend it all too.” 

Oh...That’s what this was about...

“Sorry.” Nott yelped, squirming nervously as she dangled in the man’s grip. “Uh—Finders keepers?” 

Kicking her feet and wriggling, Nott slipped out of her cloak, landing sturdily on her feet. The human, after looking at the now empty cloak in his grip, lunged after her with a roar. But Nott, just hopped up onto the bar and sprinted off. Feet pattering on the wood, kicking aside drinks left and right, as bar patrons swore or cheered (depending on how drunk they were). 

Behind her she could hear Frank shouting something, and she glanced back just long enough to see her intoxicated drinking fellow trying to head off her attacker. She blessed the old sinner’s heart, because he hardly made any headway against his much more muscular opponent, but he gave her just enough of a head start to count. With a lurch of panic Nott reached the end of the bar, and then there was nothing for it but a shrill yell, and a jump into space. It jarred painfully as she hit solid ground, but it wasn’t enough to do her in, and she scrambled to her feet, scanning for an exit. Which was disheartening, because it forced Nott to realize that there were too many patrons between her and all of the exits, except the stairs that lead upward to the second story. 

Well, that would have to do.

Fleeing as fast as her legs could carry her, Nott bolted up the stairs. Arriving on the second story, Nott could feel that she had only seconds. It was just doors, all closed, and all nondescript. Time wasn’t on her side, and Nott didn’t have time to think before she picked one, she just lunged for one of the nearest rooms. The doorknob was fixed when she tried to turn it, and if Nott could have been sober enough to remember any of this later, she would have been impressed with how quickly she had her tools out and forced the lock to spring. 

As it was, she didn’t have time to think, and she certainly wasn’t sober enough to clearly remember anything. So when she had the door open, she didn’t dwell on it for longer than it took to dart through, and lock it once more behind her. _What next_ , was the burning question that scorched her mind, and she squirmed with panic on the inside of the door trying to decide. 

Her eyes fell on a lady’s valise and a dumpy carpetbag sitting on top, and she was wiggling into the bag a split second later. The bag closed over her head, shutting her into a tiny, dark, strongly perfumed prison. And none too soon, she’d hardly settled when she caught the sounds of shouts outside the door, boots thudding up and down. She heard a creak, as some one tried the handle of the door. 

Gods, oh gods, she was really fucked this time. 

Nott was trying not to hyperventilate, pushed to the edge of a breakdown under the weight of her terror, and the claustrophobic darkness of the handbag. Patting herself down, hands shaking as she did it, Nott dragged out her flask. She needed a drink, before she flew apart at the seams. Shakily unscrewing the cap, she tipped up the flask, and chugged a hearty swig. Her cheeks filled with sweet alcohol, burning down her throat, and that was already better. 

A crash made her nearly jump out of her skin, as someone slammed open the door. Oh jesus. She knocked back another gulp. Boots were clomping around the room, and the only thing between her and them was a carpetbag. If she could just keep her cool everything would be fine, she drilled herself, just keep her cool. 

In fact. This was fine. She had this all under control. 

“I just giving you a peek.” A voice spoke in the vicinity of the door, and Nott drunkenly identified it. That old grandfucker, Tork, or something. “No disturbing guest property.” 

“It’s in one of these rooms, I can feel it.” and Nott could tell that had to be the fatty that was chasing her. 

“Look, the windows open, it probably jumped out.” Grandfucker Tork said. “Now get the hell out of my guest’s rooms. They’re payin’ me to keep their property private, and this is all I’m giving ya.” 

They were still arguing, but Nott was having trouble paying attention. She was keeping things cool in the carpet bag, trying to relax, but not actually go to sleep. Because that temptation was becoming a problem.

The sound of the door slamming closed just as forcefully as it had been opened, snapped Nott out of a slowly deepening drunken stupor. Ha! She’d hoodwinked them after all! That deserved a celebration! Which Nott proceeded to do, sloppily resorting to the flask for a celebratory swig. Some of it spilled, and Nott hummed at the waste, dragging her hand across her chin. 

Lurching forward, Nott rolled out of the carpet bag. The whole thing tipped forward with her, scattering its contents around her as she emerged, and she landed in a heap of tipsy giggles and woman’s silk dressing gown. Sitting up, she blinked stupidly at the bedroom she’d stumbled into, taking everything in. 

It was a nice place. Furnished complete with a bed, a small bedside table, lots of candles, and even a small dresser with a mirror. There was a small open window next to the dresser, probably the one Tork had referred to, and some sort of silky white clothing was hanging in front of it and flapping in the breeze. The silk dressing gown she was sitting in, looked very nice, though it was perfumed much to fragrantly for Nott’s comfort. Humans could put on the most awful smells, as if they had no sense of taste at all. 

At the moment however, Nott was more interested in the mirror. It was quite shiny, and would give her lots of nice trinkets, if she broke it. She jumped to her feet, and nearly face planted as soon as she did, swaying dangerously. Getting herself under control, slightly anyway, she stumbled across the room. It was a little difficult, in her current state, but she managed to climb up the dresser, and reached the top without falling. Which was a success her her book. 

She’d been fixated on the mirror. But she was easily distractible, and there was quite enough sitting on the dresser top, to get her good and distracted. Someone had left a little drawstring bag, several bottles, a wooden box, and a little case with a padlock on it, sitting on the dresser. Nott was sticky fingered at ordinary times, and especially reckless with a bit of booze in her system. Which meant she was quite smashed enough to investigate these treasures, consequences be damned. 

Humming to herself, Nott picked up the small wooden box first. Which brought her face to face with a bunch of blond hair, curled into girlish ringlets, and carefully laid on a silk pillow. Furrowing her brows into a frown, Nott plucked the bunch of false hair out of the box and looked at it. It was confusing, because she’d never seen a human keep hair before. Maybe this human liked to take the hair of victims they killed? Nott had seen other goblins take trophies, so she knew it was a custom that was done, though she never followed it herself. 

Then she saw that it had a hair comb, so you could fasten the curls into your own hair. And at the moment, she was just drunk enough to try it, fixing the comb into her hair. The curls fringed over her eyes, bouncing ridiculously, and they looked awful. But as soon as Nott looked in the mirror, she burst into hysterical laughter, inebriated enough to find the false curls ridiculously funny. 

Still sporting the curls, Nott turned back to the dresser top, moving on to the bottles next. There might be extra booze inside that she could add to her flask. No such luck however. As soon as she brought one of the bottles close to her face, she snarled as her nose was assaulted by the most intense floral smell she’d ever had the misfortune to encounter. This was awful. 

The rest of the bottles looked the same, and Nott gave them up as a bust. She wouldn’t be able to use any of these. Gathering them all up in an armful, not tossed them one by one through the open window, listening to them shatter. This way she wouldn’t smell the stench when the bottles broke. 

Might as well go for the bag next. Since it seemed like it might have a little more potential. This too was much too scented for Nott’s comfort, but it was bearable. Pulling apart the drawstring, Nott upended the bag, letting it’s contents spill over the wooden dresser top. This was full of several compact boxy objects, and Nott grinned. It was like getting several hidden treasures for the price of one, so she opened them all. 

These investigations revealed a small pot full of something oily and perfumed, that she raked her fingers through but didn’t find any hidden valuables, and she tossed it out the window. Another little box filled with some kind of mash, that smelled fruity, so she scooped it out with her fingers and ate it. A flat pan, full of black charcoal for making war paint with, and Nott smeared several stripes of it on her face with her fingers, properly decorating herself as a warrior. And finally another box with a tiny brush in it, and a cake of something soft and bright red, which impressed Nott because she’d never seen _red_ war paint before. She added it to the other decorations on her face. 

After each investigation, she tossed what wasn’t of any real value out the window, and by the time she’d finished applying the red paste, she was left with the empty drawstring bag. For all that it had been interesting, none of the little boxes had turned out to be really worth anything. Nott kept the red mash though. She liked it. 

Still, she couldn’t help but feel a sinking feeling that the locked box (which was all she had left) was going to disappoint her. 

It had a lock though, and locks seemed like a good sign. The box rattled when she shook it, which also sounded like a good sign, and Nott was starting to feel optimistic. Putting the box on her knees, she patted herself down until she found her tools, and bent to pick the lock. 

It took a long time. The damn thing wouldn’t behave properly, and Nott was more than a little frustrated with it. But she was determined to defeat this lock, as if it had been her mortal enemy, and she struggled doggedly on. Until finally, with a click, it came free, and she nearly tossed her tools she was so happy. 

Now. Time to reveal the secrets. Grinning, Nott pushed open the box, bracing for whatever lovely thing was waiting for her. Which didn’t disappoint her. Finally, something really valuable. With a tiny gasp, Nott stared round eyed at the contents of the box. 

It was stuffed with shiny! The glitter captured her gaze, like the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. There were four silver necklaces, a string of purls, three bracelets (one of which had inlaid gems in it), a nice pair of earrings, and at least seven different rings. Most of them were glittery and new, sparkling with gems, and all of them blindingly shiny. 

Yes! She almost couldn’t believe her luck! 

Giggling like a child, Nott lifted the treasures out of the box. The light caught against them, forcing Nott to admire the view, and she was seized by the sudden desire to put them on. Hurriedly she pushed the necklaces over her head one by one, letting them all click together on her chest. The bracelets were too large, but she pushed them up above her elbows, and that helped to hold them. Most of the rings were far to big for her small hands, all except for one small one that snugged onto her thumb. 

Nott would have taken care of the earrings as well, but at that moment she heard the door open behind her. Apparently whoever actually owned this room, had decided to come back, and in her distracted state Nott hadn’t actually noticed the approaching footsteps until the door opened. Glancing back over her shoulder she came face to face with the intruder. 

It was a human female, very tall, and almost sticklike. She was obviously old, with a pinched drab face, like something on the inside of a table spoon. Her hair was starting to go gray, but she was obviously trying to hide it, with a false wig and additional bouncing curls like the ones Nott herself was sporting. The color on her cheeks too bright and blooming, her lashes clumped and dark like hairy spider legs, with bright red lips. 

Well...

For one moment she stared stupidly at Nott’s face, and Nott stared back equally dumbfounded and generally stupefied by drink. Then she screamed, so shrill that it hurt Nott’s ears, and hysterically threw her handbag at Nott. The bag was a good toss, and Nott received the full blow right in her face, once more invading her nose with another wave of floral smell. Nott snatched the bag before it fell to the floor, just bold enough to congratulate herself on another trinket stolen. 

But the human woman now appeared to be hunting for thing to toss at Nott, diving forward to dig through her bag. A pair of lacy drawers fell far short, one of the candles smacked against the wall just shy of her head, and the woman was just hoisting a book to toss. Which wasn’t exactly pleasant, and so Nott scrambled for a way out of this. 

Out the window would do just fine. It didn’t look like that much of a jump. 

And jump Nott did, with a mad cackle, still clutching the woman’s handbag. One dizzying rush, made more nauseous because Nott had already had quite a bit to drink, and wasn’t feeling very balanced anyway. Then a dull thud, and Nott felt her breath leave her in a rush. Ow. 

That...had hurt like a bitch. 

It was about the only thought that had enough time to pass through her brain, before she heard the voice that she’d been half wishing for all along. But it did come an at admittedly inconvenient time.

“Nott!”

“Hi Cay...” Nott slurred, blinking as his face came into view. He seemed to have appeared from nowhere, now bending over her, and supporting the back of her head. “What took you so long?” 

“I was hurrying back to warn you! That caravan we swindled is still here, and I just managed to avoid getting caught—“ Caleb babbled in a rush, dragging her into his lap, then he frowned and broke off. Through the window the sound of hysterical screaming was still falling, and he suddenly noticed it, glancing up at the open window. “Nott what the fuck did you do?” 

“I found some booze!” Nott stated cheerfully, as if that were the most important point, and completely ignoring his question. 

“Is that lipstick on your face?!”

“And I stole a whole bunch of stuff Caleb!” Nott continued excitedly, eager to tell him all of her hijinks. “Some of it’s really nice!” 

“ _Ja_ , I can see that.” He said, with just a tinge of sarcasm. “I assume that is why there is a woman screaming upstairs?” 

“Oh yeah,” she said carelessly, “I stole her handbag.” 

“Jesus, Nott, I can’t let you go anywhere alone!” Caleb complained, smiling even as he said it, and patting her head. “Well, now we need to get you out of here, before the Crown’s Guard show up.” 

Unceremoniously scooping her off her feet, Caleb toted her along, moving away from the tavern as quickly as possible. The woman still appeared to be making a scene, and it made Nott snicker, the sound punched out of her in jerks as Caleb moved. 

“Don’t laugh, this is all your fault.” Caleb remonstrated sarcastically. 

“She sounds like a pig.” 

“Well, she is going to get us in trouble.” 

Suddenly Caleb stopped, and before Nott could ask what he was doing, he shoved her face first into a burlap sack. Nott kicked, and tried to protest, but her voice was muffled by a face full of sack. With a bump she felt Caleb sling her sack over his shoulder, and he began walking again. 

“Now stay still,” he hissed, “or people will see that you are in there.” 

Nott obediently settled. She wanted desperately to investigate the handbag she had stolen, or admire all the jewelry, but Caleb had told her to be quiet. She had to find some way to celebrate though, after all the successes of the day, and she settled on doing it in the most pleasant way possible. With more alcohol. And with the sweetness in her mouth, and the warmth in her stomach, Nott decided this really was the right way to live.

She passed out before she could drink any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As soon as I started this Nott and Caleb universe, I knew I would have to include some Drunk Nott at some point. Considering the shenanigans everyone gets up to on the show, I don’t think this is nearly outside the realm of possibility, if anything it’s not crazy enough. But it’s what I came up with.


	7. Frumpkin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rules of copying a spell are so weird, I had to find my own way to make it believable. Hope I succeeded.

“This is going to work right?” Nott inquired, careful to be the voice of caution in the face of Caleb’s overwhelming anticipation. “Nothing ya know...spoopie we need to watch out for?”

“ _Ja, ja_ , of course it will.” Caleb brushed her off distractedly. “This is an old spell...I’m sure many people haf used it, and I have all the essentials I need.” 

He was washing his hands in the little brook next to their temporary camp. Which was strange, because Caleb had an almost obsessive adversity to cleanliness, and usually carried enough dirt on his frame to sprout a very small garden. Standing next to him on the muddy bank, Nott made no such effort to clean herself, and instead watched his face. It was well worth looking at, and she couldn’t get enough of it at the present moment. 

Nott had gotten good at reading Caleb. And usually that was a much more difficult task, with the somber monotony he wore like a shield to hide behind, keeping himself deeply buried. But his body language at the present moment was nearly screaming excitement. The signs were unmistakable, the way he fiddled with everything he could lay his hands on, as if he couldn’t contain himself, the breathy absent way he spoke without considering his words, or how he kept biting back a nervous smile he couldn’t quite hold in. 

Caleb was very, very happy. 

And that simple fact made Nott glow with euphoria by proxy. She’d been jealously guarding him from himself just days ago, keeping careful watch over the destructive force of his self-loathing. Her small form had been the only thing blocking him from an action he couldn’t undo. Suicide, as much as Nott hated to admit it, had been a danger only barely skirted. 

That, compared to seeing him vibrate with exhilaration now, was enough to make her ready to dance. It was a source of her own private rapture, drinking in the sight of her boy, her Caleb, so happy. All the watching and worrying had been a worthy price, for the sake of seeing him thriving now. 

“So, why are you washin’ your hands?” Nott asked. 

Part of her genuinely did want to know, but a much more prominent part of her was asking since she knew Caleb would enjoy answering. Because, for all his customary awkwardness and dislike of conversation, Caleb liked to teach. The set parameters of Teacher and Pupil, the containment of attention to one fixed subject, the act of an expert passing on their expertise with nothing else required of them, were all strict guidelines and boundaries that he exulted in. A connection was the thing he wanted, a relational bridge, but in conversations there were too many variables, no fixed ways to engage. Teaching was safe, predictable and formulaic: a master forming ties with his student.

Caleb simply liked answering questions to which he knew the answer. 

So Nott asked them. About every day things, but especially about magic. He liked to teach, about anything in which Nott showed an interest and with which he had experience, but he was in his element when asked to teach about magic. It was like a zealous passion, straining to get out of him, fixated on drawing others into the same inspiration. 

Apparently he hadn’t heard her this time though. He was almost obsessively scrubbing his hands, like he had a speck of dirt on them that nobody could see but him. There was a frenetic, but tensely restrained, anticipation in his movements. Like a person intentionally fasting in preparation for a feast, Caleb was rigidly grave and businesslike, as if he were putting himself off. 

“Hey Caleb.” Nott tried again.

“Mmmm?” 

“Why are you washin’ your hands?” 

“Because—“ Caleb said vacantly, still busy with his unusual task, and forgetting to finish his thought. Then he glanced at Nott, sharp eyes flickering over her face, and he abruptly remembered himself, drawing his hands out of the stream to examine them. “I don’t want to get it dirty.” 

It was half an answer, but Nott didn’t think she’d get much more out of him. He was far too absorbed at the moment to engage in any form of coherent conversation. 

Apparently he was finally satisfied with his hygiene, and rose without another word to make his way back to their camp. Nott sidled after him, lips closed while her eyes were wide open, taking in everything her boy did. Reaching their little bivouac, Caleb began to settle himself as he usually did every night, shrugging off his coat to sit on. Taking his cue, Nott parked herself next to him, still tracing all his movements. 

But unlike his usual ritual, he had a stack of some kind of fancy paper, that he’d bought while Nott was enjoying her night on the town. He’d also bought two full inkwells, that both had gold leaf inlay around the neck, and a new feather quill. It all seemed expensive, and Nott had been hesitant to touch it in case she broke something. She could also see why he would wash his hands before using them.

She soon saw that this wasn’t the only difference though. Instead of using his usual leather bound tome, Caleb retrieved a different book than the one he usually studied in, or taught Nott with. While Caleb always handled books with a nearly worshipful care, treating them as if they were living creatures that could feel things, Nott could instantly tell from his posture that he attached special meaning to this book. He wasn’t just respectful, if anything his tactile handling of the book, seemed affectionate. He was nearly petting the book, like his hands enjoyed the feel of it when he touched it, in the same way he liked to pet Nott’s hair. 

For all the care he treated it with, Nott didn’t find it much to look at. It was like some love child between a leather bound book, and a bundled up package. The book was a sturdy binding that appeared to have no pages inside, and instead this empty shell had been tied down around a smaller package of soft leather folded together, which had taken the place of the pages. The outer shell was battered, weather worn and frayed, the leather abrasive instead of glossy. While the bundle it protected looked new, the material still soft and buttery. 

Nott hummed, leaning in closer to look at it, “what’s that?” 

“This,” Caleb answered a little breathlessly, “Is all the magic I know. Everything.”

“Looks old.” Nott said doubtfully, less than inspired by the tome’s dingy appearance. 

“ _Ja_.” He said with the same giddy breathlessness. “I have had this book since I was a little _kind_.” And he broke off to stroke his fingers over the binding, and mutter, “my old friend,” to the book. 

With a hasty movement he tore off the leather cord that tied the book shut, finally pulling open the hard shell of the binding. The leather bundle he brushed apart, revealing a stack of unbound paper. They weren’t all the same type, some of them differed slightly in color, or varying textures of smooth and roughness, or different sizes. But they were all carefully bundled and protected inside their leather wrapping, and the empty binding of the book. And they were all intricately covered in writing. 

For a moment Caleb just looked at them, as if he couldn’t quite take his eyes away. Then he carefully folded the leather up again, protecting the parchment once more, and lifted it out of the hard book cover. Holding it in the air, he slightly turned his body toward Nott. 

“Can you hold this for me please?” He nearly whispered, offering it to her. “I need to to keep it safe for me, while I work.” 

“Of course,” Nott whispered back, throat strangely tight at the request. It was a simple task, but the importance Caleb attached to the whole bundle, made his unspoken trust a weighty thing. 

Holding out her arms as if Caleb were going to take her measurements for a pair of clothes, Nott sat perfectly still, as Caleb gently placed the sheaf of leather bound papers in her lap. Once his hands drifted away, Nott cautiously allowed her hands to settle over the bundle in her lap. It wasn’t heavy, and it didn’t look like much, but Nott felt dizzy with the unvoiced responsibility that had been placed in her lap. This was _all_ Caleb’s magic, held right beneath her fingertips. 

She felt as grave with her charge as if it were a treasure to be guarded with her life.

Satisfied with her gravity, Caleb turned back to his task. Now that the papers had been removed, he laid out the empty hard cover on the ground, and set his unmarked paper on top with the ink and quill nearby, forming an impromptu writing desk. This done he straightened, and pulled in a shaking breath. 

Then he bit his lip, and rummaged through an inner pocket of the coat he was sitting on, drawing forth the red leather case they’d pilfered from the wagon caravan. His hands were shaking, and he was biting his lip nearly hard enough to bleed, as he unclasped the cap over the top. But Nott could see it was with intense excitement, as opposed to any kind of genuine fear. He was so tense with anticipation, Nott was buzzing with him. 

The case contained only a thin scroll of paper. But that paper was without parallel one of the most beautiful pieces of writing Nott had ever seen (thought admittedly, she hadn’t seen much). It was all penned in some kind of thin, very spidery, but quite graceful script. The heading of every paragraph had a large capital letter, with miniature flowers and vines framed around it, and twisting complicated knots were drawn all around the borders. It looked pretty enough to put in a frame, though Nott couldn’t read a word of it. 

But much more wonderful by far was Caleb’s face as he looked at it. 

As soon as Nott glanced up at him, that glance solidified, as she gazed soulfully up at his face. He looked rapturous. It was the little boy all over again, like the dark night in the prison when he smiled at her face. No walls, no shades or stains, just the euphoric unfettered smile. 

He laughed, a little haltingly, and his eyes glittered with sudden tears. “I haf been trying so long to learn this one.”

“It’s a good one then?” 

“ _Ja_. This is very, very good.” 

“What’s it for?” Nott asked with a hushed thrill. 

Caleb didn’t answer. As suddenly as his blissful smile had appeared, it hardened into sudden intense concentration. Without a word he spread the scroll out over his other paper, and bent over as he began to read it. And with that, he forgot about her completely, becoming totally engrossed. 

Then all Nott could do was watch him. He was so immersed, that when she said his name he didn’t even twitch. And when she tugged at his sleeve he only muttered, “go away,” and brushed her off. Pouting a little that she still hadn’t managed to get her question answered, Nott finally gave up, and settled in to guard his papers and watch him work. 

She didn’t have much to watch however. At first Caleb did nothing but read, his eyes dancing over the carefully penned scroll, as he took in every word. But then he began to re-read. He just pushed back up to the top of the scroll, and read through the whole thing, again, as if he hadn’t been careful enough the first time. And then again, and again. And again. 

Nott stifled a yawn. 

The woods around them were growing darker, as the sun dropped toward the horizon, and Caleb was still just reading. He was mouthing silently to himself now, murmuring under his breath so imperceptibly Nott couldn’t make any of it out. Feeling a little stiff, and a lot bored, Nott sagged sideways into Caleb. Propping her head against his hunched shoulder, she stared blankly through the parchment Caleb was fixated on, and clutched the sheaf of papers in her lap. 

Her eyes felt itchy, heavy with sleep weight. Nott blinked. Blinked slower. Allowed her eyes to sag for a beat, before she forced them open. Then she blinked again, and maybe it wouldn’t hurt to rest her eyes for just a second, long enough to let them relax against the weight for a moment...then she’d open her eyes again, because she had to stay awake, but she could rest for just a moment right now...

She woke up when Caleb suddenly straightened, which pushed her from her pillowed position on his shoulder. The camp had grown noticeably darker, the last of the gray twilight just slipping into true blackness, and the fire Nott had built up two hours ago had burned down a bit. Nott gave a sleepy yelp as she was shoved away, and came to true consciousness lying on her back, looking at Caleb’s profile above her. 

“Alright.” Caleb stated firmly, holding up the scroll before him. “I think I haf the meaning worked out.” 

“Whaaa?” Nott said, voice little more than a croak, digging a knuckle into her eye. Then she took in what he was saying, and suddenly jerked back into a sitting position, now wide awake. “You only just now figured out what it says?!?” She squeaked, appalled.

“ _Nein_.” Caleb corrected, with a frown that was torn between irritability and amusement at her behavior. Then his brow cleared, and he beckoned, laying out the scroll on the book cover again so that she could look at it. “Maybe, it would be better to say that I just now figured out what it is _really_ saying.” 

Nott obediently followed his direction, and looked at the parchment. In the hour or so that she’d been sleeping, Caleb had apparently been busy, and Nott felt a lurch of dismay at his progress. He’d spent the time scrawling notes on top of all the beautiful writing that had covered the scroll. Nott mourned the parchment that had been pretty enough to frame, when she realized that Caleb had circled some random characters, stroked through others with a slash of his quill, and sometimes even scribbled out whole passages of mysterious text. He’d been busy with the stack of blank parchment he’d purchased too. Pages and pages had been filled with scrawls of random writing, and more Arcane Glyphs, that he’d sketched on the paper and then crossed out. 

“You see?” He asked, as if what he’d been doing should be obvious to anyone that looked. 

“Is it ruined?” Nott asked anxiously, “Now you won’t be able to use it, with all the doodles on it?” 

“It isn’t like that.” Caleb said, his face softening, as if he realized Nott needed him to explain. “I just took out the mistakes, so now I can use it.” 

“Mistakes?” Nott repeated with a frown, as she looked back at the flowing text, that had obviously been carefully written before Caleb wrote over it. 

“There are mistakes. You remember, I told you: magic is Power.” Caleb murmured, leaning his head close to Nott’s as she bent over the scroll. “Now if that is true, would you give power to just anybody? You wouldn’t, _ja_? So when you write down how to use magic, you hide it, so that the man on the street can’t get it.”

“They put mistakes in on purpose?”

“So that you need training to pick them out,” Caleb said, which was nearly an agreement. “Besides, this spell is written to be cast one time, without components. So it had text for that enchantment, which I don’t need.” 

He pointed to the blocks of text that were crossed out entirely, and Nott began to hazily understand. Caleb had taught her that magic, unless it was very temporary indeed, needed objects or gestures to complete the spells. And if you were going to follow a spells tools, you wouldn’t need the enchantment that made them unnecessary. That sort of made sense. 

“Alright.” Nott conceded, making her eased mind especially clear with words, since Caleb probably needed to hear them. “So once ya know what the spell says, whatcha going to do?” 

“Now I just have to copy it down, so that I will have it to use when ever I like.” 

Casting a knowing grin in Nott’s general direction, he lifted the smudged spell scroll, and held it out. For a moment Nott couldn’t make herself believe what he was really asking, then he said, “could you hold that so I can see?” and his meaning was quite clear. Breathing shallow and reverent, Nott reached out to take the scroll, holding it up in the air. He was allowing her to help him, giving her a task to perform, as if they were learning the spell together. Nott pushed down a blush, as she struggled not to turn green. 

That was really nice of him.

For a moment Caleb leaned back to examine her, as she carefully clung to the spell scroll, and he seemed satisfied. Then he muttered under his breath, opened his hand, and a little mote of light appeared on his palm. Gesturing with one finger, Caleb allowed the light to drift, until it was hovering in front of the scroll. Ordinarily Nott probably would have been tempted to get distracted with the light, but she had a job to perform, and she staved herself off. This was more important. Satisfied with the situation, Caleb shoved aside all the paper he’d used as notes. 

He straightened and tilted his back, closing his eyes and breathing in the slowly emerging stars over head, and in that one deeply drawn inhale and exhale his demeanor changed. Nott watched with growing speechless awe as he relaxed into his task, marking the transformation as it happened. He’d shifted again, like the first time he’d taught her magic, becoming methodical and confident. All the nervous avoidance of a beggar shy of attention and eye contact, dropped away, leaving behind something mechanical and driven. And like a mask being pulled away, when his aimless outer shell was removed, there was a different rigidly disciplined man underneath. 

With that transformation he returned to his task, and he was so thoroughly careful, it made Nott shiver with nerves for him, braced for mistakes. He straightened his remaining parchment into a perfect stack, eyes scanning the paper as if searching for smudges. He checked his quill, obviously searching it for other imperfections. He dipped in the inkwell, and then checked the ink at the tip of his pen, the placement of his arm, the position of his body. 

And then finally, he allowed his ink to touch the paper. 

Nott became dazedly enthralled as soon as Caleb started writing. It was just the scratch of his pen, and the occasional pause to get more ink or glance up at the scroll Nott was holding at a convenient angle. He was almost painfully slow and careful, but the caution produced something beautiful. And it was soon clear from the measured uniformity of his writing, that this was a task Caleb had performed many times before, all his movements silently practiced. He didn’t look careless, but he knew what he was doing. 

As much as Nott had enjoyed looking at the now ruined spell scroll, watching Caleb write was much better, and she had to admit she preferred his penmanship. He wasn’t nearly as flourished and decorative as whoever had authored the scroll, placing no special attention on the script itself except the effort to make it neat and clearly legible. But the simplicity spoke of Caleb, and the plainness had its own stark kind of beauty. It was just neat black letters on white paper. 

Compared with the time he’d spent reading through the scroll, and the space of time when Nott had been inadvertently napping, he was much more quick now. She could see the tangible results of his study, as each new line of text appeared. All the long waiting was finally paying off, and Nott could see now why he’d been so careful to read the spell, when she saw how obsessively perfect his writing was. 

Long before Nott had grown tired of watching him work, or holding the scroll for his convenience, Caleb exhaled raggedly and sat up. Nott looked down at the pages of uniform text, on which the ink still glistened, and she could understand the look of pride on his face. It was pretty, nothing fancy, but so perfectly balanced that it ended up being beautiful anyway. 

“There,” he breathed, shakily laying his pen down, and doing nothing more than looking at the parchment. “I am done.” 

“You learned it?” Nott whispered reverently. 

“And now, little friend, we can use it!” 

Suddenly gleeful, like he couldn’t contain himself, he snatched up his newly written spell and walked closer to the fire. Nott jumped after him, dizzied at the sudden change. Because, as much as she’d helped Caleb copy the spell, she still had no idea what it did and hadn’t expected him to use it _right then_. Apparently he intended to however. 

“Build up the fire,” Caleb commanded, too distracted to remember polite requests. But Nott didn’t mind. She knew the difference between mere informality, and true vitriol, and she liked Caleb’s familiarity.

As Nott leapt to obey, Caleb was busy with his own preparations. He’d bought another package besides the one full of expensive paper and ink, and Nott had been side eyeing it since they settled down to camp, itching with curiousity to know what it was. Now he brought it closer into the firelight and unwrapped it. Which, despite the hope that Nott had been harboring, didn’t contain Shiny things. Instead he pulled out a cauldron of some brown coppery material, a small bag full of charcoal, and a fat satchel of something that smelled so strongly perfumed it made Nott’s nose itch. 

“What is all that?” Nott said, eyes going wide as she took the objects in. 

“These, little friend, are going to be my material components.” Caleb instructed, as he began to lay them out around his knees, with the same attentive orderliness he’d paid to the paper and ink when he was copying the spell. “You remember the material components, what they do?” 

Nott straightened her back as she answered, looking for all the world (if she could have known it) like an attentive schoolgirl answering a teacher’s question in class. But Nott had never been to school, and didn’t think of the similarity. “You use ‘em to draw parallels between our world, and the insubstantial thread of magic, through objects. Right? A-at least, that’s what I...what I think ya said...”

“Very good, that is exactly what I said,” Caleb said with a gentle smile at her feet. He _had_ been to school, and the similarity seemed to be apparent to him, if his amusement was any indication. “All objects have magical properties in them, and you need that in order to achieve the desired effect. A parallel between the mental image in mind, and the physical thing chosen to represent it. The material components of a spell, represent and carry the mental force of the caster behind them.” 

He’d become a bit technical for Nott’s level of understanding. But a vague shadow of the meaning made a slight impression on her brain. And after all, if she forgot or didn’t understand, she could guess that Caleb would probably be eager to teach her again. 

“They are very important, and they aren’t always cheep or easy to get.” Caleb was still teaching, now placing the brass bowl between them, and clearing away all the dead leaves and plant matter around it. “I spent all my money to buy these things.” 

“ _All of it?!?_ ” Nott squeaked, aghast. 

She couldn’t imagine anything more awful than loosing all that shiny money. What a tragedy! And in the light of that revelation, at least part of Caleb’s ragged appearance began to make sense. He couldn’t even afford to buy new clothes, or take proper care of himself! 

“Magic is very expensive Nott.” Caleb said patiently. 

Satisfied with the metal cauldron’s placement, Caleb picked up the charcoal and began to carefully build a mound of fuel inside the bowl. Nott watched him intently, sensing his concentration, and choosing not to break it. Though at the moment her mind was bursting at the seams with questions. Dusting off his hands, he leaned back to look at the mound of coal he’d build up, carefully observing it, and at last nodded. 

Leaning forward, he placed his hand inside the brazier, laying it splayed on top of the fuel. A shushed whisper of arcane words bubbled past his lips, heat shivered around his rapidly blackening hand, and a surge of fire flashed in the bowl. The charcoal caught fire instantly, low flames dancing between the black lumps, and inner depths of red warmth began to shimmer as the charcoal heated up. 

“Can you take my spell and hold it for me?” Caleb asked, making Nott jump out of the reverie that the flames had lulled her into. She glanced at the sheaf of papers he had shielded in his lap, and felt a lurch of responsibility again. 

“You—you want me to do magic with you?” She stammered, caught off guard even now by his trust, and flushing darker under the weight of it. 

“ _Ja_ , you are a good helper.” He said briskly, sitting up, and leaning backwards so that the spell pages were exposed. “Now, I haf soot on my hands, so I want you to pick them up and sit across from me where I can see them.”

Darting forward, Nott carefully retrieved the papers. Crossing to sit on the other side of the pot, Nott settled, and obediently lifted the first page to hold it up where Caleb could see. Squinting at it in the half light, and chanting as he spoke, he opened the one remaining bag full of fragrant dried herbs. And so the spell began. 

Part of Nott had been expecting something theatrical. Flashes of fire, or a sudden earthquake of power. But this spell was somehow quiet, almost intimate, like an act of meditation instead of control exerted over the universe. Nott was quickly getting lost in it, the dancelike repetition of it, the hypnotic flow of concentration. And because for all it’s careful quiet, there was a tension of brewing magic in the air that made her breath come short, getting drawn into the incantation before she even knew what was happening. 

It was just the whispered cadence of Caleb’s voice, so constant that it was soon the mere music of his voice that Nott was listening to more than the words. He only paused for measured beats, to glance back at the paper Nott was holding, or to whisper “next page please” so quietly that Nott almost didn’t hear him. Just the nearly rhythmic dance of his hands, as he slowly started to burn the herbs, releasing a scent into the air that was sharp and tingling, as if the air itself were prickling and awake. 

At first Nott didn’t see any signs that the enchantment she felt on the air was actually having a physical effect on the cauldron. It looked like a regular charcoal fire, other than the fact that it was burning in a brass bowl, and Caleb was chanting over it. But as the incense continued to burn, Nott noticed that the smoke was beginning to linger inside the pot. And once she noticed it, she could see it clearly, watching as the scented fumes lingered and slowly began to fill the bowl, but it never grew to the point that it spilled over the lip of the bowl. It only grew an amassed, until it had perfectly filled the cauldron to the brim, and then no matter how much incense Caleb added, the smoke just swirled and stayed the same. 

Then Nott looked down into the pot, and her breath left her in a whoosh. Whatever this magic was, it was beautiful. The red coals of the fire were shining through the smoke, like a molten core of heat and melted rock shinning through mist, all softened and made pearlescent and swirling in the hovering smoke. As effervescent as shapes made in water, constantly swirling, but never clear enough to form a solid shape. 

“Caaay...” Nott sighed in a rush of blissful admiration, her mouth hanging open after she spoke. “It’s so...pretty...” 

Caleb didn’t answer, and Nott didn’t need him to. She was adrift in her own sea of fascination. Still mechanically obeying Caleb’s requests for a new spell page, but lost in awe at the beauty of this particular spell, and blind to everything else. 

Even an hour passed too soon, and the time had slipped away before Nott could think clearly enough to keep track of it. The woods around them had grown truly dark. They were both vaulted in shadows, wrapped in the blackness, with only the campfire’s insubstantial flicker making a defiance against the nighttime darkness. In the absence of the sun the woods had grown as still as they were, lending shouted silence so complete it was almost physical, to the reverie of the spell. 

Then the fire inside the brazier hissed and crackled. 

The air sparkled, suddenly expanding like something newly come awake, and the tang of magic on the air made every hair on Nott’s body prickle. The light in the brazier and the smoke of the fire grew bright, blending into a shimmer of reds and golds, as if the pot were full of fire made into air or air made into fire. As if the whole thing were one brightly burning coal, light stabbed upward from the bowl, flinging up shadows against the trees and golden illumination across Caleb’s face. 

And with a faint fire hiss, it all swirled together and solidified...into a ginger cat...

It was curled, relaxed and almost liquidly flexible, around the bottom of the pot. Lying on it’s back, with it’s belly stretched out and all four paws in the air, as if it were basking in a beam of sunshine on a warm afternoon in the middle of summer. And even though it looked like a creature just awakening from the most relaxing nap, there was a pair of unblinking golden eyes with a seed of intelligent thought burning behind them, that were both fixed on Caleb. 

Caleb stared at the cat, and the cat stared at Caleb. And they were both so intent, it was like a thread drawn close to snapping between them. 

Then the cat suddenly stretched, turning onto its side and rasping its claws against the side of the cauldron, as it’s body seemed to string out almost impossibly long. Moving slow and languid, it slithered over the side of the pot, front paws delicately meeting the earth as it’s hindquarters lazily followed. And then it padded away across the leaves, toward the shadows at the edge of camp, in the direction of the stream just out of sight. At the edge of the firelight it stopped, turning to look fixedly over its shoulder at Caleb, and its tail twitched. Then it melted out of sight into the shadows.

“Did it leave?” Nott asked cautiously, glancing sidelong at Caleb who was still staring after the cat. 

Caleb frowned, and after a moment he shook his head. “No...I think it will come back...” 

Glancing at his face, Nott silently wondered how he could know. But Caleb was smart, he knew so much more than her, he was probably right. A few moments passed in silence, then a cat’s mournful caterwaul broke the quiet, and the cat came back. 

Loping across the forest floor, it came slinking up to Caleb and rubbed against his arm. He smiled, the soft kind of gentle look that was usually reserved only for Nott, and lifted his arm, allowing the cat to immediately crawl into his lap. In the few moments it had been gone the cat had apparently made its way to the little brook, and must have been rolling in the mud, because it’s fur was now caked with dirt, so that the cat looked as bedraggled as Caleb was. 

Caleb cautiously hovered his hands just above the cat’s body, unable to quite bring himself to touch it, like it was about to break. As soon as he did it, the creature arched up into his touch, starting to purr. With a wet laugh his eyes suddenly filled with tears, and he began scratching across the cat’s body, which only got his hands filthy and worked the mud deeper into the cat’s fur. 

“ _Ja_...” he mumbled, with a tearful smile. “You are definitely mine...”

“What is it anyway?” Nott said, leaning in to get a closer look, unable to hold back her questions anymore. “Do ya have a magic cat now or somethin’?” 

“He is my Familiar.” Caleb said breathlessly, as if it was something he could hardly believe. 

It wasn’t an exactly helpful answer however. 

“What are those?” She prodded, eyes widening, and looking up at Caleb’s face even though he wasn’t paying attention to her.

“They are...helpful spirits.” He explained, in a little more detail, and Nott drank it in. “You can summon them to aid you, and this one is mine. He is a fae, but they can choose their appearance when you call them, and he wants to look like a cat.” 

“So he is a magic cat then,” Nott crowed, squirming with happiness. “You have a magic cat!” 

“Maybe he is,” Caleb said, though Nott didn’t think he really knew what he was saying at this point. “I did used to haf a cat when I was little...” 

“He is kinda, ya know...frumpy...for a magic cat.” Nott said doubtfully, looking down at the Familiar that was by this time, thoroughly filthy. As were Caleb’s hands from petting him, the charm of magic and clean paper apparently wearing off, as his palms became grimy once more. 

“Are you a frumpy cat?” Caleb baby cooed to the creature in his lap. 

The cat yowled enthusiastically, standing on its hind legs and digging its claws into Caleb’s sleeve. 

“I think he likes that,” Caleb said thoughtfully. “Maybe that is his name then...”

“Frumpy?” Nott inquired with a frown. 

“ _Nein_ , I haf decided.” Caleb declared, suddenly sitting up straight as his mind hardened. “His name is Frumpkin. That is a good name.” 

Frumpkin purred loudly, scratching his claws down into Caleb’s coat as if it were a tree. Then with a twitch of his tail, he suddenly scrabbled upwards, climbing Caleb’s arm until he reached his shoulder. For a moment the cat balanced delicately, then he squeezed around Caleb’s head, and draped his body across the back of Caleb’s neck. Looking for all the world, like an animal shaped scarf. 

“I think that’s a good name too.” Nott said, watching the cat settle. 

Frumpkin flicked his tongue out to lick Caleb’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caleb’s spellbook is described as a normal book I think, but I couldn’t reconcile that with him needing to buy a shit ton of fancy paper to write the spell on, because as far as I know Ring Binders aren’t invented yet. So I loosely interpreted how a book of unbound papers might actually look.
> 
> Maybe we’ll get a complete description of Caleb’s book someday, and my interpretation will inevitably be BS.


	8. My Sister Nott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually thought of this chapter before all the others, and this is where my whole vision actually started. 
> 
> Caleb had just revealed his story to Beau and Nott, and I was listening to Time from Inception, (you should definitely listen to it, if you want to get a better feel for this chapter). The music sounded like Inevitablity. It was like listening to Memory, something both happy and bitter that couldn’t be changed, fixed in the past for better or worse...And if that doesn’t describe Caleb, I don’t know what else would.

_There’s a boy running..._

_Follow him. Find him. See where he runs. He’s running from you, see him, face him, touch him one last time...what he’s running towards won’t wait to die.._.

He knew this boy. Knew this dream, even after all this time.

_People are dancing, and the music is loud. This happened before, you remember this place. There’s so many bodies, so much intrusion, they press against your mind. Everyone’s looking, and there’s only one place to hide._

_“Why are you shaking?”_

_And there she is. Didn’t you expect her? She’s always here. She’s always dancing, always waiting, always guiding you to the rhythm of time. You should have remembered, but you always leave the memory behind._

_Even after all this time, you can’t see her face. She’s just a blur on the lens of your mind. But you don’t need one. She’s beautiful, and you know that don’t you? There’s no need to see her._

_This is enough. The shape of her memory. She has no face, but she’s just as real all the same. An impression, a painting, no need for reality. You remember her hair, she was wearing a ribbon. There’s the warmth of her hands, always tender, like a candle that flickers under her skin. She has a green dress on, and you know it brings out her eyes. This is the memory, and it is enough._

_“I don’t want to step on your toes.” That was the excuse you gave. You’re too afraid to admit, the people here suffocate you. Even then you were lying, even then you were hiding, even then you felt like too much._

_“They’re a lot right now?” She sees you, she always could tell. With her there’s no place to hide._

_She’s pulling you closer, and it burns like a brand on your mind. There’s suddenly everything, drawn close, drawn tight. Too near to escape this. The shape of her form supporting your body, the strength of her arms weaving you in. You put your face on her shoulder, and her skin was so soft, it drove the crowd outside. Her voice is in your ear, and you don’t know what she’s saying, but it sounds like a daydream, sounds like an angel._

_You were pulled so close, and you remember her smell. She smelled like spices, and she always smells gentle. It aches, it screams, it tears at your mind. This is her form, she’s real, and she’s here, and you’re back in the heaven you tried so hard to keep._

He knew he should stay there. 

_The boy is running...you watch him pass by..._

_He’s running, and you have to find him. If you catch him now, there may still be time._

_You pull away from her grip, you stumble away from her haven. There’s a boy running, his back turned toward you, and he’s the one you really need to find._

_”Where are you going?” her hands are still lingering on your shoulders._

_If you answered her, even now, there wouldn’t be time._

_“Where are you going?” Her voice rings out urgent._

_You have time only to follow, only to chase._

_“No! Stay with me! You can’t go that way!”_

_He’ll escape if you let him out of your sight._

_“No! Please don’t go!!!” She’s shrieking behind you, but her voice is so faint, you can hardly hear it. “Don’t go that way! Don’t go! Come back, and stay with me!”_

_The boy is leading you deeper into your mind._

_There’s the tree. It’s large and green, and the light shines through the leaves. You played here remember? You sat in the branches, once upon a time. This is where you made a swing, this is where you lost a kite. This is where you played with your friends, once upon a time._

_The boy. He’s running. You leave it behind._

_This is your house. It’s perfect, unstained, in the eye of your memory. There’s your name on the door post, when you measured your hight all those times. Those are the stairs you used to climb. This is the home you remember, with sunlight, and stillness, and perfect peace. Here is where home is, and here is the answer. This is where they’re waiting, you can’t keep them out of your mind. They’re pouring out like a tide._

_You follow the boy, through an endless maze of rooms, and the memories crowd on thick and fast._

_And there is your father, he’s so real here you can’t hide the truth. You wore his hat and laughed, as he chased you around the house, trying to catch you one last time. Younger still, you rode on his shoulders. You pulled his hair when he carried you, and he never complained, though you must have hurt him so many times. He’s teaching you arithmetic. He’s ruffling your hair. You’re just a little boy, running to meet him, as he returns home from work covered in grime._

_He’s here, and he’s real, and there’s no where to hide._

And he didn’t want to see, it would be easier to draw away from the truth. 

_The boy’s still running, and you watch him meet the one he’s come to find._

_This is your mother, she’s warm and she’s close, and she’s all love and affection. You’re laughing as she kisses your forehead, and why did you ever draw away? What shame is there in this love? She’s holding your hand as you walk. She’s holding you close, tucked in her lap, as she reads you stories at bedtime. She did all the voices, you remember her silly impressions in the back of your mind. She cuddled you close, and said “I love you,” so many, too many times._

_You remember her baking, her creations, like their still freshly tasted. She always smelled like dirt from the garden, bread from the kitchen, and the soap she used to wash dishes. Her hands are rough but their homely, her reading is clumsy but it’s loving. Her face is wrinkled, but it’s warmer than the sun._

He didn’t want to see this, but it poured, and teared, and screamed through his mind.

_The boy is grown up._

_He’s become like you now. So proud, so arrogant, so self assured in his time. You chased and you called for him, but still he never listens. He’s lost, and your warning fell on deaf ears, as you watch him rot away._

Choking bitter shame rose in his throat at this memory.

_You’re standing there watching. Witness him, as he throws it all away. Your mother and father, they’re kissing him goodby. They’re so proud, so unconscious, so unbearably blind. Can’t they see he’s a monster. This is their doom, their murderer, and they kiss him like he’s the only thing to keep them alive._

_“I’m so proud of you son.” Your father says._

_But the boy is not listening. He’s straining at the moment to get away. Because his friends are waiting, his doom drawing closer, and he can’t even spare them a moment. This is their goodby, and he’s not listening. He leaves them this day, grown too callous and cold, to even offer time for goodby._

_“You’ve become such a smart young man—“ your mother begins._

_“I have to go, they’re waiting for me.” the boy says as he tries to pull away._

_“Just remember that I love you—“_

_“I know, I know, I’ll remember.”_

He remembered this dream. This was always the end of the line. He’d scream at himself, beg his Past not to leave them. They’re saying goodby, to their son, their only boy, and he can’t even give them a thought. He was so eager for the future, like a stupid fucking fool. 

And as his Past leaves the house, he’s always followed and screamed, begged him even now to turn back. He’d rail at himself, insubstantial, unvoiced, a phantom that’s locked in his own mind. “Go back,” he’d say again and again, “they love you, don’t leave them. You’re a fool if you take this way.” But no one ever listened, and this was a moment he couldn’t erase from time. 

But this time was different. He watched his past leave, and it wasn’t anger that filled his heart. No hatred for himself. He just looked at the memory, and for the first time felt grief crush his mind, mourning all that was lost. He was such a fool, and he left them, and now he can’t change what’s done. He did this. 

And for the first time as he dreamed, he let his Past leave, and lingered behind. 

_“I love you so much.” Your mother says, and she’s still speaking, even though the boy has left her behind._

_You look at her face, and her eyes are meeting yours. She’s looking right at you, and it’s not the past that’s speaking. This is what you never stayed for, this is what you missed, as you chased after yourself._

_“I love you my son. You’re my only boy, my light, my life. I’m proud of you. I’m proud, so proud. I love you my son. I love you. I love you.”_

_The boy, barely older than five, runs past your knees. You thought he was gone, and you turn to watch him. As he runs past you, into the kitchen, bringing you to a forgotten memory in the back of time._

_He’s crying, and holding his finger, and you remember this memory. You’d been outside, when a bee stung you on the hand. You cried, and screamed, and ran to your mother inside._

_He’s holding out his hand, and your mother turns away from the dishes. She’s still got soap suds on her hands. Her face softens, and she drops to her knees, cooing as she cups his hand. You can’t hear her voice, but the phantom breath of your mother’s love still rings in the back of your mind._

_“I love you.”_

_Your mother takes the little boy’s hand. She kisses it, carefully, as if her lips can take the pain away. Her fingers run through the little boy’s hair. She brushes it back, and presses another kiss to his forehead._

_“I love you.”_

_There’s your father. Drawn by a call from your mother. He’s joining your mother on the ground, and they both have you now. You’re held safe between them, and that little sting is forgotten._

_You’re safe, and you’re loved, and all so close. This is the thing you left behind. Here’s the truth you came to find._

“Hey...Caleb?” Nott’s voice rasped in his ear. 

_“I love you.” Her voice whispers one last time._

Nott was leaning over his face, yellow eyes glowing in the light of the candle by the bed, and they were wide with concern. She was always so unfailingly gentle. For all his faults and mistakes, she’d never once abandoned his side. And for a moment that fact caught in his throat, made him want to choke on emotion all over again. 

“Are you uh—“ for a moment she hesitated, but she’d gotten bolder, and he could tell that she was going to speak if he waited long enough. “Bad dream again?”

Her question made him think back over all the vision, the crushing grief of it, and he shook his head. “Not exactly, no...” 

“It-it’s just ‘cause, you were cryin’ in your sleep...” Nott hinted with such open trust in her voice, no shred of judgement to be found. 

Caleb hummed, and reached up to touch his face. The wet streaks were cool against his skin, soft, and bitter with salt. Leaning over him, Nott’s fingers caressed across his forehead, and she made a small shushing noise through her jagged teeth. With that sound in his ear, and her fingers petting his face, he felt himself relax. He realized, he’d come to trust this tiny child with his whole being, and it only took her reassurance to feel safe again. 

“You don’t usually do that anymore,” she mumbled sadly, “so I got a little...squiggly...”

Caleb tried for the thousandth time to understand how anyone could feel hate for this gentle creature. 

Sometimes that made him angry, calling on a Rage he worked so hard to keep down, the kind of righteous fury that had been trained into him like a soldier learning to march. When an enemy touched even a hair of Nott’s head, or made her bleed a single drop, something brutal rose within him that he couldn’t keep back. He turned into Judge, Jury, and Executioner.

But at other times, like this gently aching moment, Caleb looked at all the enmity Nott faced and it made him heavy with grief. He’d seen her, in quiet moments, when all attacks were far far away, he’d seen her true face. And at those times there wasn’t a hint of fear in her, all her anxieties melted away. Seeing that freedom, and knowing that the hatred of others stole it from her, and made her tremble and shrink within herself. At times that made him unspeakably sad. 

“I think, our...unpleasant friend...has made me re-live the past,” Caleb whispered. “A little.”

“I’m so sorry Caleb!” Nott squeaked, the rise in her voice showing how upset she truly was, and she dived forward to wrap her tiny arms around his neck. It was a token of affection that surprised him every time, never worthy of it until Nott offered it, without a hint about his worth. “All this time you’ve been hurtin’, and I didn’t even know...” 

“Well I don’t think I went out of my way to tell you,” Caleb said, happy to let his arms fall into Nott’s embrace, once she’d already forced it on him. “I was bitter, and I chose not to trust you. I was a coward.”

“Stop that.” Nott suddenly snapped. Her voice was brimming with anger, but it shook as if she would weep if she didn’t hold her fury close, her arms still iron around his neck. “Stop, stop stop! Ya say all this bad stuff about yourself, and I don’t believe a word of it.” 

“It is the truth Nott,” he tiredly rebuffed, “I was a coward.” 

“That’s what you think, but you’re wrong.” Nott reiterated stubbornly. “It’s your truth. I know better.” 

And Caleb knew, when Nott’s voice carried that prickly firmness, practically inviting opposition just to show the naysayers how unyielding she would be, he couldn’t change her mind. It was a swaggering boldness that usually came out when she was drunk...but lately it had been something else...as she gained new friends, and grew more at ease with their company. As she bloomed outward, moving on from Caleb, and outgrowing her need for him. 

He ached to know that. He was proud of course, that she was maturing, finally realizing her own worth and reaching for something better than what he could give. But Caleb still needed her, and while Nott would one day leave him, he was almost physically incapable of leaving her. She would leave him behind, and he’d bless her choice and wish her well, but a very prominent part of him feared that his own death would be certain once she did. Her tiny prop was the only thing holding him up. 

He’d made that promise, and one day she wouldn’t be there to make him keep it. 

“You’re thinkin’ bad stuff.” Nott growled, always so quick to pick up on his pain. 

He hummed noncommittally, because these were painful thoughts, and he wouldn’t burden Nott with them. 

“Someday you’re gonna hafta let go of that.” She said, sitting up to get a view of his face, and tapping him on the cheek. “And I’m just gonna stick to you, and keep tellin’ you, until the day you believe me.” 

He wanted to choke again. Because he knew it wasn’t true, it couldn’t be. The good things never lasted for him. 

Nott was shushing through her teeth again, and her hand caressed his cheek. Which made him realize he was weeping, the salt droplets falling unnoticed until that moment, and he groaned with loathing at his own weakness. But Nott just shook her head, and batted his hands away before he could shield his face, still petting his cheek in her characteristic tactile way. 

“Sorry—“ he choked, feeling his breath come too short. 

It was Nott’s turn to hum then. The sound soft, and painfully gentle. And it said more clearly than any words, how truly she didn’t resent it, how little she held the tears against him. 

She scrambled up, until she was standing above his head, and she sat on the pillow with her legs bracketing his ears. Leaning over him like that, so ready to shield his face in the old way, she settled. And Caleb didn’t protest. Because, as temporary as this might be, it was still here, and he needed this straightforward openness of Nott leaning over him. 

“ _Mutter ficker_.” She stated in Zemnian. 

The wildly out of place profanity made him laugh, even while he recognized the tenderness underneath. It recalled his memory to that stroll with her riding on his shoulders, when he’d taught her the Zemnian translation for motherfucker in the first place, as she’d no doubt meant it to. She’d been distracting him from himself that day, he realized that now, with the distance of time and deeper understanding shedding light on the past. How long had she been looking out for him, when he didn’t even know it? 

“I love you...my boy...” 

He couldn’t quite restrain a keening whine, closing his eyes against new tears. He had so many walls, but nothing could ever keep that simple phrase out, pierced by that final weakness. The inability to refuse Nott’s simple childlike love, because he didn’t deserve it, did too little to keep it, but couldn’t stop craving it. That was the selfish truth: he ached for it, to know that somebody, anybody still loved him even now.

“I love you, and I’ll keep sayin’ it.” Nott asserted softly, voice little more than a whisper. So unfailingly, heartbreakingly, stupidly kind. “Till the day you believe me.”

_The End._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well my lovely readers, and this is the end. My work here is done. 
> 
> Letting this fic go, after working so hard all this time, is going to feel very sad. I’ve loved every moment of writing this story. But all tales must come to an end. 
> 
> Maybe inspiration will strike, and I will add further bonus chapters, if it does. But for now, and maybe forever, this is the journey’s end.
> 
> Thank you all, so much, for joining me.


End file.
